Withered
by Carys Valerian
Summary: Once upon a time, in a kingdom so old that you've probably never even heard of it, there lived a beautiful queen. High above her kingdom, in a dark tower, lives her youngest daughter. Knowing nothing about the world outside she escapes, and learns nothing is ever as it appears, and it will take courage, faith and love to discover whether beauty and goodness truly go hand in hand.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I thought I knew what I wanted to do when I started my next story, but I was left feeling pretty desolate after finishing Briarheart and couldn't find that spark of inspiration like I had before. Yet here I am, ready to begin my new tale that is more original than based off of any fairy tale in particular- although it draws on some popular motifs from tales like Rapunzel, and the Frog Princess. While it promises to be a little different than my previous stories I hope that you enjoy the first chapter of Withered, and if you do please let me know!

Love Always,

C.V.

**Prologue- Once Upon a Time**

Once upon a time, in a kingdom so old that you've probably never even heard of it, there lived a beautiful queen. Her hair was as golden as the sun, and her eyes were so blue that even the clear, summer sky had cause to envy her. Still, with all of her beauty and wealth, she was always left wanting more. Her loving husband, the king, had always found her selfishness to be harmless and endearing- but as time passed her desires never seemed to ebb. Eventually the people of a once prosperous kingdom began to suffer in order to support her desires.

The king became consumed with pleasing her and began to tax his people mercilessly until both they and the land began to wither quite without his notice. His eyes were so focused on his lovely bride that he never saw that while he grew older, her appearance always remained the same- consistently without any flaw to speak of. His ears were so occupied by her sweet words that they couldn't hear the whispers in the dark. Hushed voices that worried that the queen might be a sorceress. For although she looked as bright and shining as gold, her heart was so dark and black that light would never again dwell within.

Yet despite his starving people and the ever-growing suspicion that his wife was a witch, the king did nothing. A fact made even more apparent when a few years later he had not only a wife to contend with, but two daughters as well. The two girls were mirror images of their mother, and gave their father little notice unless they desired some trinket or another. The rest of the time their mother took charge of their education, mostly in the dark arts, molding them to grow up just as black of heart as she was.

One would think that the queen would require nothing else to maintain her hold on the kingdom- that given all of her powers she would be able to hold it perfectly in her grip. However, fate ensured that the one thing that she was required to do to maintain her hold on the crown continued to elude her. She couldn't bear a son.

The law in the old kingdom demanded that the next ruler must always be a male heir. When the king died, an eventuality that she would surely help come to pass if it would further her cause for power, the throne would not pass to her or her daughters. Instead, the stewardship of the kingdom would transfer to the male next in line, the then three year old son of a deceased Lord.

Slaying the child would not have been above the wicked Queen either, but it would serve her no purpose. For there would always be another heir. No matter how obscure, or how far he was removed from the current nobility.

And when the king had begun to question why she hadn't been able to conceive a boy, the queen was forced to take more extreme measures. Without an heir, the king would be forced to remarry, a prospect which she did not care for in the slightest.

Frustrated with herself and her poor luck, the witch queen resolved to use black magic to achieve what she desired. However as is usually the case with the dark arts, she did not get what she wished for.

Although she conceived, much to the king's delight, her child was not the boy she had so needed. Still, for all her careful planning, the queen hadn't considered that there could be anything worse than having another girl.

But on the day I was born, she learned that there was. It was on that same day, that I was locked away and hidden from anyone who might learn of my existence.

For 21 years, I would live in that tower, waiting for the day when my mother finally found a use for me. When she did, it was one I could never have expected.

**A/N:** Thanks to Be Rose, for being excellent with grammar!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So sorry this took a while. Last month was a rough one, but I'll be posting on a weekly basis again starting now. I hope you like the first chapter, though I'm sure it will give more questions than answers.

3

C.V.

**Chapter One- Last Candle**

The day my life changed forever began like any other, tied together with the one before it in a pattern of endless monotony. A windowless tower doesn't offer the natural progression of day and night, so my sleeping and waking moments weren't dictated by the sunlight. Food was given to me through a small slat in the bottom of the iron door that barred me inside. I didn't have the luxury of utensils or even a plate. I suppose because it would have meant someone would have needed to come to the tower to collect them more often, and it would have been a hassle. I had one, single candle left in my possession, but it was burning so low to the rock I'd placed it on that I knew it wouldn't last much longer. To me candles were the most precious thing of all, for without them my world was dark and cold, not only because of the state of the tower, but also because without a candle I was denied the only solace I'd been granted in my isolation.

I was not always alone in my cell. When I was a young child my mother did make infrequent visits, but I was monitored every day by an old woman named Agatha. She was stout of girth and of heart, and I remember her hair being so white that even in the darkness it shone. Ignorant as I was at the time, she seemed as if she was someone completely magical. For it was she that brought me my first candle, though she had no need of it herself. Agatha was old, and her vision had faded years before, but she told me the light of the candles still brought her comfort whether she could see it or not.

The moment she lit the candle my eyes stung as they adjusted to the light. I can still remember the clarity her small gift provided me, since it was the first time I could really see my stony prison for what it was. I could make out tiny notches on the wall, no doubt made by its previous inhabitants-. It was also when I saw my shadow for the first time. The sight alarmed me, the concept of my body blocking the light was completely lost on me, and I was convinced that there was some sort of monster locked in my cell with me. Its invisible arms and legs as trapped within the tower's walls as I was. Agatha quickly assured me that shadows were completely normal things, and that I oughtn't be frightened of myself or what I was. I didn't understand her words at first, nor could I speak enough to respond to her, but as time passed, as time is known to do, her wisdom lifted me out of my ignorance.

Every word she spoke illuminated my cold, dark existence a thousand times more than her candles ever could have. She would tell me stories of times long ago, when the world was full of life and colors that I could hardly even imagine at first. She taught me of the trees and sun, of oceans and rain- all things which seemed so completely impossible to me that I wished more than anything that I could leave my tower and witness their wonders for myself.

Yet despite my thirst for knowledge about the world outside, there was one tale in particular that enchanted me above all others. One day, when Agatha felt my speaking had progressed enough that it was high time I learned to read, she brought me a book that she'd written herself- _The Tale of Knight Valiant._

More poetry than prose, it told the story of a courageous hero battling vicious monsters all to save his one, true love. Its cover was tattered and its pages were torn and browned with age- but it was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I've never quite understood the reason, but the sight of my language being written down so beautifully practically brought me to tears. I burned through so many candles that year while I practiced and practiced my reading -consuming hours of my timeless existence while learning about things in the world I had never, and would never experience for myself.

The day I could read the book aloud to Agatha was the first time I'd ever seen tears in her eyes. She had waited a long time to remember the words that she'd once written herself, back when she was younger and her eyes still had light in them.

"Child," she had told me, her voice sounding like it had aged 100 years in that brief moment. "The world has become a dark, cold place. Still, it brings warmth to these old bones to know that even in a place as dark as your tower must be, light can still thrive. You bring me hope, and someday I know you will share that hope with the world."

Those were Agatha's last words to me, for after she left me to return home, as she did every night, she never came back. There were no more stories, and no new candles. My life was lonely and dark once more, save for the precious moments I allowed myself the chance to read. While I had The Tale of Knight Valiant more than memorized, there was something about looking at the words that brought me peace and comfort in my solitude. They ran across both my vision and my mind at once, and I could almost see my hero battle a ferocious dragon every time I read them.

That day, impressed, as usual, by his amazing courage, I got to my feet, book in hand. Wielding it like a sword I moved about the tower cell battling the dragon made of nothing more than my shadow against the stone wall.

In my mind I was as brave as the knight, my heart as true. No dragon, no matter how strong or frightful was a match for me. The candlelight flickered- the dragon's flame cascading upon me. I dashed out of the way, narrowly escaping death, as my book-sword plunged into the creature's scaly hide. I heard it scream in pain as I fell to the ground, just so I could watch my shadow dragon plummet to its doom. Monster defeated, I made my way to the dragon's lair. Although it was full of gold, the treasure was not what I sought. Instead, inside waited my true love.

It was here, my imagination usually failed me, and so with a sigh, I sat back down by my candle to finish reading. However, just as I was getting to the part of the epic where Knight Valiant and the princess reunited, I felt a cold breeze, and the last light from my candle flickered out. It was a sensation I didn't feel often, but I would never forget what it meant- someone was coming. I hadn't seen another soul since Agatha, and that was probably years ago. Tucking my book underneath one of the stones in the floor of the cell, I rushed towards the back and curled up as tightly to the corner as I could muster.

I was afraid, because I had been given my bread and milk not long ago, and it was meant to last for quite some time. So if it wasn't Agatha then it could only be one other- my mother. I wasn't a fool. I knew that by locking me in this prison my mother held no love for me, and so I held none for her either. I resented her, but even more than that I feared her. I had never seen her use any sort of power, or even really act cruelly. Still, there was something about her demeanor and the way she carried herself that made me feel devoid of all hope. I hadn't seen her in so long, but even the thought of her could inspire terror in me.

Yet it wasn't the cold, delicate footsteps that I remembered her having long ago that I heard climbing the staircase towards me, nor was it Agatha's uneven footing, or the slow, dutiful steps that belonged to the person who brought me my bread and milk for the week. Instead, the owner of the feet seemed to be running, and rather frantically, too. I could hear whoever it was stumble and fall several times as they made the climb, higher and higher, and I wondered what could have urged them on. Climbing a tower was certainly not the best idea when trying to escape from a pursuer, and I doubted that anyone would choose a tower prison as a destination that could provide any kind of sanctuary.

I waited until the footsteps stopped, but when nobody entered, and all was silent again I began to grow a little confused. I wondered, at first, if I had simply longed to speak to someone other than myself for so long I was beginning to hallucinate, For if it really were my mother outside the door, she would have entered without reservation, of that I was certain. Curious, I crept out from the corner of my room and placed my ear against the door, listening as quietly as I could until I heard a strange, scratching noise coming from the lock that bolted me inside. Frightened again, I rushed back to the corner of the cell as quickly as I could manage, and waited until I heard the tell-tale clicking sound of an unlocked bolt, and the creak as the door opened. A tiny beam of light stretched into the room. The shadow of a figure, much smaller than I'd anticipated, slipped inside and shut the door behind it. I heard the same clicking noise as whoever it was somehow managed to lock the bolt from the inside as if they'd never entered.

I stayed as quiet as I could muster. I had no idea who this person was, or what they wanted from me, but I found it strange that they hadn't thought to call out to me, or even verify that I was inside. Unless, of course they had no idea that I was. In that case I didn't know if it would be better to call out and make my presence known, or to simply remain silent until I was noticed. Thankfully, I didn't need to ponder any further on the matter, since the intruder managed to speak first, although not to me.

"It smells awful in here. I should have brought a torch, it's blasted dark in here. I wonder if there's one anywhere," a small voice muttered to itself, and while I wasn't sure, it sounded like a young female. Granted I was still a little nervous, I thought I ought to let her know the cell was quite devoid of light, especially since my last candle had burned itself out.

"There isn't any light left I'm afraid," I said, softly. The intruder screeched in a tone that seemed almost otherworldly, and I could make out her figure cling itself to the wall.

"Who are you?" she demanded, instantly feeling around for wherever I might be.

"I might be asking you the same thing. I'm not the one who came into someone else's home without permission," I answered, more bravely than I really felt. Still, if she was a child as I expected my rational mind convinced me that I probably had little to fear from her.

"There's no need to be so finicky about it. I didn't know you were here. Besides, I couldn't exactly knock first and let the whole country know I was coming," she answered, with more attitude than I'd expected.

"Why are you here?" I inquired. I doubted my cell was a spot most people would desire to go. I held no illusions about my living conditions and they were hardly sanitary by any means.

"I'm looking for something," she answered.

"Are you alone? Aren't you a little young to be breaking and entering?"

"Who are you my mother? I'm on a very important mission if you must know, and what I'm looking for is very important. The problem is I can't see anything," she groaned as she began feeling about the walls.

"Well I know this place top to bottom, and I can tell you that there isn't anything worth finding in here. Only me and the occasional bug that manages to slip through the cracks. Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for I might be able to help you," I offered, though perhaps I should have tried prolonging the inevitable conclusion that she would eventually come to- that I was right, and there was nothing here. The sooner she found out the sooner she'd leave, and then I'd be alone again. Despite her attitude I could help but feel a sense of profound relief at speaking to someone other than my shadows and imagination. It made me feel more alive than I had in ages.

"I don't know if I can tell you," she answered, a little hesitantly. However it was evident that both the darkness and stench of my cell was bothering her, and while I was quite used to it I couldn't blame her for wanting to leave.

"Well it's up to you," I shrugged, satisfied with simply watching her search for now.

"So why are you in here? Did you do something bad?" she asked, I suppose trying to make conversation. She was probably as curious about me as I was about her, although I had much less to tell.

"I guess you could say that. I was born," I answered, though the girl laughed.

"You could hardly help that now could you. What did you really do? Steal, murder, call the Queen ugly to her face- now that would be really something," she said, still chuckling to herself.

"I really didn't do anything. I've been in here since I was a baby, so if I did do something wrong I certainly don't remember it," I said honestly.

This comment caused the girl to stop her futile search for a moment and sit down.

"You've been in here your whole life?" she asked, much more serious than before.

"Yes."

"Don't you want to get out?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you try to escape?"

"Even if I did I'd have nowhere to go," I shrugged.

"But this place isn't even guarded. Nobody comes in here. People say that there's a monster inside."

"You don't believe that, do you?"

"Nope. The only monster I know of is the Queen. I came here because she needs to be stopped, and the only thing that will help us stop her is supposed to be in this tower. My grandmother said so. She told my brother and I that the secret to defeating the Queen is hidden here."

I wondered what could have ever prompted a child as young as my visitor seemed to desire someone's defeat. While I knew how terrible a person my mother was I couldn't help but wonder what she had done to the world outside my tower to warrant cries for her destruction. What was even more puzzling was the thought that the means of her defeat was with me this whole time. Yet I knew very well that there was nothing in the cell but me and my book. With a start, I was struck with a thought.

"Your grandmother- was her name Agatha?" I asked, desperately hoping my intuition was right.

"How did you know that?" The girl asked, growing a little suspicious.

"I know her, she took care of me for years, until one day she didn't come back anymore. Is she alright? Where is she?" I begged for the information I'd wondered about for so long.

"She died, only a week ago," was the girl's simple, sad response, and I could feel my heart break. I couldn't speak anymore. I'd held on to the vain hope that one day she'd return and tell me stories like she used to, and now I knew that day would never come.

"She spent years trying to find a way to remove the Queen from power, and she wrote all of her notes down in secret. She said that she left the book here, where nobody would ever find it. Nobody believed her, not even my brother. He said there was no point looking for something she'd probably dreamed up at the end. She'd gone quite senile after all- but I know she was right. It has to be here somewhere!" The girl began crying, her tears bringing me to sorrow at the loss of the only person who'd ever shown me kindness. I wasn't sure what to do to comfort the child. I'd never been in such a position before, and so I awkwardly waited for her to finish crying before telling her I might have what she was looking for.

"Your grandmother left a book with me," I said softly after the child's wailing had quieted a little. "She said she wrote it, but I don't know how it will help. It's a storybook."

I made my way to the stone where I had hidden _The Tale of Knight Valian_t, and lifted it up, handing it to the girl a little reluctantly. That book was my only comfort, and the idea of giving it away was painful. It was my only connection to the outside world, and to Agatha as well.

"Do you think this could be it?" I asked her gently as she felt the pages beneath her fingers.

"Maybe. She really wrote it?"

"Yes, at least that's what she told me. I'd have no way to tell otherwise." I watched as the girl clutched the tattered book to her tightly, and while her expression was hard to read in the dark, I imagined she felt relief that her trust in Agatha had not been misplaced. Taking the only opportunity I thought I had I spoke again.

"I will give it to you on one condition. Please let me out. I won't follow you or bother you or anything. I'm sure I'll find my way, but you might be my only chance to see the outside of this tower," I said, pouring all of my hopes and dreams into my words if only so they would be heard.

"I'd do anything to prove to my brother that I was right. Bringing you with me might make him believe me- otherwise that stubborn dirt-for-brains might think I made the book up myself. He never listens to anything I say. Nero's a blacksmith, but I think his head is harder than the iron he pounds away at. It's him that made this handy little lockpick. I stole it to get in here," she rambled on. Meanwhile, I honestly had no idea what to think about her agreement. Of course I'd thought of escaping many times, but I never believed it could really happen. Now that it was, a thousand emotions flooded my mind all at once so that it felt as if my heart might pound right out of my chest. What would I do first? What would things look like? Would people act as I expected? Would I make friends?

Not letting the book out of her grasp the child picked away at the lock again while I watched with interest. Such a simple thing was to be the key to my freedom. I realized the child was still talking as the lock clicked its release, and she was asking me a question.

"I'm Arden by the way. What's your name?" she asked as the heavy door creaked open. As I took my first step outside the cell I answered her. My mother had never given me a name, but Agatha had named me on the first day she'd arrived, and so I supposed it was as true a name as I'd ever get.

"Your grandmother called me Elora," I answered, shutting the cell door behind me. Just then, as she muttered something about it being a lovely name, she turned around to face me. She had a round face with impossibly curly brown hair, and her eyes were a lovely shade of blue- but in them was an expression I couldn't recognize. They were opened very wide, and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle a cry. I looked around to see what could possibly be the matter, but spotting nothing hindering our escape I turned back to her.

"What's wrong?" I wondered, concerned.

"I never should have let you out," she practically whispered, running so fast down the stairs that my feet, unused to walking very much were unable to catch up with her.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Without further ado, Chapter 2 of Withered! This will answer one of your questions, but probably leave you with a lot more in its place. I hope you enjoy, and I'd like to take a moment and thank everyone who reviewed. You keep a smile on my face and ideas in my head.

3 C.V.

**Chapter Two- Gold, not Honor**

I chased after the young girl as quickly as I could, but I found myself hindered by a number of problems that for all of my careful thoughts of escaping, I had never once considered. Dreams couldn't account for feet that were unused to walking for any sort of distance, and my muscles were hardly suited to descend a staircase. They pulled in uncomfortable and unusual ways at the exertion. In the darkness of my cell, I knew every nook and cranny. Even without being able to see very well, I had an acute sense of my surroundings. On the staircase however, I was unsure whether to turn or go straight in front of me, or even how deep the steps were ahead of me. So instead of being able to chase after her, I found myself fumbling and searching for the way down so I didn't fall and injure myself. I was as pathetic as a child learning to walk for the first time, but I'd no other choice but to go down. I knew what remained for me at the top of the tower, and I had no desire to return until I had at least seen the outside once.

When the stairs finally stopped their descent, and I felt the wooden door in front of me, I had a momentary feeling of trepidation. Beyond that door was the world I'd always dreamed of, but the memory of Arden's shocked face at seeing me made me feel a little nervous. What could possibly have been wrong with me to warrant such a reaction? If only she'd stayed long enough for me to ask her, then I could have prepared myself for what was to come.

With a heart beating more rapidly than it ever had before, I pushed the door open only to be greeted by a light so bright that I was blinded. My eyes stung, and even though I pinched them closed, the light of the outside world was still strong enough to burn through my eyelids. Shrieking with surprise I shut the door as quickly as I could until I was back in the safety of darkness. Crying out with desperation I dropped to the ground, pounding my fists against the door. I was so close, so close to freedom, and I despised the irony that caused the very light I sought after to be the source of my undoing. My mind raced, frantically trying to find a solution to my dilemma, as I refused to be defeated so easily. I had been given one chance to see the world, and while I might not have been able to look upon it, I could still learn of it with my other senses, as dull as they were.

The dress I was wearing was little more than a scrap of cloth now. Once, it had been so large that three of me could have fit inside it, but I had grown so much since then that while it was still loose on my waist, the hem barely reached my knees, not counting the holes that were scattered throughout the rough cloth. Since it was already fraying it was little trouble ripping a long piece from it, and I wrapped it thrice around my eyes to block as much light as it could. My dress had grown shorter still, but in my eyes it was a fair price to pay- and with any luck I wouldn't need it for long. I hoped my eyes would come to adjust to the change in surroundings. Once more, I opened the door, and while a little light managed to shine through my wrappings, with my eyes closed I found the experience much more tolerable.

Now, the only question was which way to go. I couldn't see, and I hadn't the faintest idea of what direction I should take. While I doubted my mother would notice my absence right away, I still needed somewhere to hide, at least for the time being. Until I got my bearings straight I was as weak as a mouse, and I was sure I'd stand out the minute anyone saw me.

For a moment, I stood still and listened to the sounds of the outside world, wishing with all of the might I possessed that something might give me a clue. At first, all I could hear was the pleasant sound of the wind, but as my ears became more attuned to the sounds around me I began to hear a creaking noise that sounded so eerie that I wondered what could be making such a terrible clatter.

It reminded me of the time when Knight Valiant had fought an army of the undead to get to his fair princess, the sound like long dead bones creaking as they moved slowly and deliberately.

My nose was assailed with millions of strange smells, some pleasant, but many more just as rancid as the stench of my tower that Arden had commented on. I wandered towards where the smells of what I thought must have been food got stronger, until I heard something else strange. It was like footsteps but harder and heavier, coming in patterns of four instead of two. With a start, I realized that I knew what it must be- a horse, just like Knight Valiant's noble steed. Perhaps a true knight rode it, one whose honor would dictate that, despite whatever appearance I had that frightened away a child, he must help a woman in need. I stumbled towards the noise with hopeful and wide-eyed naivety until I heard a single woman scream. What was intelligible shrieking at first soon became something much different, and I could make out the word she was shouting.

"Monster!" Frightened myself, I began to feel around me for the source of her terror, bumping into warm bodies and wooden structures as I drew more and more attention to myself. I realized as I began to hear the entire crowd shout out about a monster, that it was me that they were talking about. It could only have been me. Still, despite the fact that my ears were overloaded with shouts, screams and the sound of what seemed like hundreds of people running off at once, I listened for the horse-for my knight. Happily, I noticed that the sound was coming closer towards me, and my heart relaxed in the knowledge that I was about to be rescued.

So when the sound of the hoof-beats came to a halt beside me I fell to my knees in thanks.

"Please help me, I do not know where I am, and I cannot see at present," I called out to whoever it was that was approaching.

"It seems the creature has a real ladylike vocabulary, don't it Fob.," a voice that sounded more scoundrel than noble called to a companion, who seemed to be rather unfortunately named Fob.

"It do Roger, it do. What might 'er Majesty pay for such an interesting specimen such as 'erself, do you think?" Fob replied, the tone of his voice sending a chill down my spine. It seemed I was not going to be rescued after all, and I fell a fool for having believed it even for one second.

"She'd pay 'andsomly I reckon'. She's always interested in curiosities, ain't she Fob?" The idea of being sold back to my mother was one I dreaded, for I could only imagine the fate that would await me in her grasp again. The least of my troubles would be returning to the tower, but I had a feeling that whatever I awaited with her would be far worse. Perhaps my fear gave me the courage I'd lost, and puffing out my chest a little I asked the two men a question, oddly aware of the eyes of who must have been the townspeople watching our conversation.

"I am not a curiosity, nor am I something you can sell. Are you not knights? Shouldn't you help someone in distress? Creature or not?" I asked, trying hard to keep the trembling from my voice.

This caused quite a bit of laughter from the two men, and I burned with shame and anger both.

"Haven't you any honor?" I asked again.

"Honor is dead, my lady monster. Give me the Queen's gold over honor any day. Honor never filled a man's stomach," Roger said, between chuckles.

"But it does fill a man's heart, though I sincerely doubt you possess one," I spat back, well aware I had nothing to loose, and so full of disappointment at the reality of the world I had dreamed of that I wished I'd never been so foolish as to leave.

"That's quite enough out of you lady monster, you're comin' with us!" Fob said, and I felt rough hands seize me by my arms. I struggled, but compared to the two men I was as weak as a babe. Still, they could return me to my tower, but I would not go back to my mother without fighting with what little strength I had.

"Is this what the Queen's Swords do in their spare time now? Pick on the disfigured?" A voice shouted out, drawing my captors attention. It was a voice I didn't recognize, which wasn't exactly a surprise, but it was one that I had dreamed of- Knight Valiant himself, come to save me.

"Mind your business boy, or mayhap we'll bring you to the Queen instead, and you'll see what happens to those who get in our way!" Fob shouted, but whoever he was, he did not relent.

"If you want gold so badly you can take it. But leave her alone!" The sound of metallic clinking at my feet practically echoed in the silence that had followed the man's words.

"And what's to stop us from taking your money and the creature?" Roger asked, though his grip on my arm was much less tight, like the money had called him away from me in a voice I couldn't hear.

"Nothing, but if you want the other half of it, you'll pass her over to me and leave quietly. I guarantee that the Queen won't pay you a single copper for this creature. She was twisted in my mother's womb and managed to get out of the house on my watch. Look at her yourselves and assess her worth- and you'll admit it's not much. But my mother will have my head if she's not returned," Hearing those words from my knight's voice was a little disheartening, but I knew he had to say such things to manipulate the guards into surrendering me, so I refused to be let down by it.

"Fire take you boy, have at 'er then, but best keep the creature out of sight from now on," Fob said, and once their terrible fingers had released me, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could hear the murmured whispering of the crowd that doubtlessly still surrounded me, but I couldn't get up. My strength had completely vanished now, and I thought I might die there, on the ground where I'd fallen, until hands I hoped would have been gentler pulled me to my feet.

"Come on you," the voice of the man who'd rescued me hissed, dragging me along behind him. His voice sounded much less welcome now.

"Thank you sir, for helping me," I managed to say as I struggled to keep up with his brisk pace. Although I was following him, without my sight it was still difficult to get about.

"I'm no sir. And don't thank me. I don't care what happens to you," he gruffly replied, his voice ringing in stark contrast to the cleverness I'd heard in it before.

"Then why did you save me?" I wondered.

"Because it was my sister who let you out, so someone had to take responsibility for that dirt-for-brains," he continued, and I recalled my conversation with Arden earlier. She had mentioned a brother.

"Funny, she called you the same thing," I said, more to myself than to him, though he was clearly upset at my comment since he pulled me along a little harder.

"Ouch, that hurts!" I cried.

"Should I apologize?" He asked in a disinterested drawl, and I regretted ever having mistaken him for my Knight Valiant.

We continued to weave back and forth through streets I assumed, until eventually we stopped, and I heard the creak of a door opening. Tossing me inside, I could hear Arden's brother shut the door behind him. I was unprepared when my blindfold was ripped from my eyes, but the place where he'd brought me was dark, and lit only by a great fireplace that looked as if it was used for a trade of some sort. Although I didn't recognize any of the tools I saw there, I assumed he worked in metal, since the whole place smelled of smoke and iron.

Once my eyes grew used to vision I looked at his face, a little defiant in my anger. I wasn't sure if I was any better off in this place than I would have been with my mother given the look of revulsion in my rescuer's face.

"By the forge of the Fire God, she is as hideous as you said sister," he said, squinting as if perhaps looking at me through blurry vision would make it better. It was then that I noticed Arden, sitting in the corner, sniffling in fright. My heart sank. I was the cause of her fear, and I didn't even know why.

For some reason, despite her brother's unkind words, I still felt the need to reach out, to apologize to her in some way, even though I knew the way I looked, however awful it may have been, was hardly my fault. I chose to ignore him for the time being and looked at the girl.

"Arden I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." I said, speaking to her in the soft way Agatha used to comfort me when I was afraid.

She lifted her eyes to look at me, and then began to cry again. I sighed a little sadly.

"I told you sister! I told you not to go looking for trouble where you don't belong, so you've no right to be afraid now. You could have been killed!" Her brother shouted, clearly acting like a disciplinarian. I felt awkward listening.

"But grandmother said-" Arden began, but was cut off.

"Grandmother was senile in her old age. She was mad!"

"The book was there Nero, it was in the tower with her!"

"This creature was put in that tower for a reason! You weren't right to meddle in things that don't concern you. That book won't do anything to help us, and now I've got to go and clean up your messes like I always do!"

I didn't like the sound of that. I wasn't a mess that could be cleaned- not yet anyway, unless this Nero decided he was going to make me into one- and that wasn't a prospect I liked much.

I looked back at him then. His eyes were the same blue as his sister's, but now they reflected the red light of the fire in the room. His dark hair was unruly, and his face, unshaven. I'd never seen a man before, unless one counted my imagination, and he wasn't exactly what I'd been anticipating. To say I was a little let down would have been an understatement, but perhaps I was simply clouded in my opinion by my earlier impression of him. His behavior meant so much more in my assessment than his face ever would, anyway.

"Who are you?" He demanded, pulling what must have been a sword from a rack on the wall. It was as menacing as he looked.

"Elora," was my simple answer. I wouldn't tell him the rest. He'd hardly believe me even if I did.

"What are you? Why were you in that tower?" he asked again, drawing the sword closer to me still, as if threatening me would change my answer.

"I don't know, but I imagine something terrible given all of the reactions I've received today," I replied, calmly. It was the truth after all, though I was starting to understand more and more why my mother had hidden me away.

Arden spoke then, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You really don't know what you look like?"

"You were in that tower with me Arden. How could I have?" I said, sadness edging into my voice. Nero's eyes narrowed, and he moved towards the corner of the room, where a giant piece of metal must have awaited tempering.

"Allow me to educate you then creature," he said, beckoning me over to him with a wave of his blade. Honestly, I didn't know if I wanted to look, if I wanted to see what shape was reflected back at me. I had seen my gnarled hands and feet, but I'd no way of knowing that I wasn't normal, or that my appearance hadn't deteriorated due to my living circumstances.

I walked, slowly, towards where Nero was waiting. Disgusted by me or not, at least he wasn't afraid of me, though I had a feeling he wasn't afraid of anything.

The sheet of metal was clear, it had no distortions, although at first I wondered if perhaps that is what caused my figure to seem so misshapen. Yet the more I looked the more I came to the conclusion that there was nothing amiss with the mirror, only something amiss with me.

My skin was not the same shade as those in the room with me, their complexions were pink in sheen, and rosy. I, on the other hand, was no natural shade I'd ever heard of, but instead, my skin seemed grey-blue and lifeless. It wasn't smooth either, that I knew, but in the mirror it looked wrinkled and putrid. The eyes that looked back at me were much too large for my face and angled diagonally. They glowed a strange, unearthly violet with no whites or pupils in the firelight. In contrast, my nose was large too, and it looked as if someone with a very bad temper had hammered it nearly flat against my face. My mouth was crooked, with crooked teeth. While I already knew that two of my bottom teeth jutted out sharply from my mouth, I'd always assumed that it was a natural condition, but now I knew better. They were like a storybook monster's fangs. I was so thin and shapeless that I was skeletal, like all of the life had been sucked from me, and I wasn't sure if that was the way I was built, or if it was due to my poor diet being locked in the tower. My hair hadn't been properly taken care of, and what hadn't fallen out already was matted and colorless. I was a troll, a goblin, an ogre, or some strange mixture of the three.

I don't know how long I stared at myself in the metal. It could have been a minute or a day. I suddenly understood everything and nothing all at once. I could understand why my mother had hidden me away and given me a blind nursemaid. I knew now why Arden and the townspeople had been afraid of me- but what wasn't clear to me was why my mother would go through all of the trouble when she could have simply killed me. I also wondered how I'd come to be so monstrous in the first place. Surely such a disfigurement wasn't a natural one, and I suddenly felt unclean, like the blackness of my mother's magic had seeped into my skin and transformed me into the creature reflected back at me.

I felt my dreams of fantastic tales had been dashed. For I'd never heard of a heroic monster. In The Tale of Knight Valiant the only monsters I'd ever read about were cruel and terrible- meant to be killed by Valiant's blade. Yet I had never done anything so terrible as to deserve such a fate, and I wondered if I was going to meet the same end as my fictional counterparts. Such a thing seemed completely unfair, since I couldn't help being born the way I was. I had been weened on tales of happy endings that now I knew could never come true, and the prospect shattered me.

With a deep breath meant to collect all of my wandering thoughts, I forced myself away from the mirror and looked at Nero and his sister to ask the only question I thought I could get an answer to- a tear, unbidden, falling down my monstrous face.

"What are you going to do with me?"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by time. I finally had it. It's been difficult for me to work on this story, mostly because it's so different from what I've done before that I continue to post with some trepidation. Still, I hope you all like it, although I'm still waiting for the review that tells me it's terrible. I'm not usually so critical of myself, so I will simply end and say for all of your questions there will be answers, and that if you like the story you let me know. Reviews are my life.

C.V.

**Chapter Three- Black and White**

"We will bring her back to the tower tomorrow," Nero said, resolution in his voice. I had to admit, the prospect of returning was almost a relief now. If my mother never knew I was gone, then my life would return to how it always was- full of endless monotony. I may have hated the darkness and the loneliness I felt there, but at least I would never need to see my reflection again. I would never be called a creature or monster, or make little girls cry at the sight of me. If I stayed out in this world, I'd have nowhere I could be accepted, no sanctuary of my own as I'd always dreamed there'd be.

I staggered into the corner of the room to collect my thoughts. There was something oddly comforting about a corner. Perhaps it was because I had so often sat in the corner of my cell in the tower, that I needed the safety and comfort that being enclosed could provide. My hands- claws- grasped at the wooden walls, fingers running across them until I began to memorize all of the knots and patterns in the same way I had my stone ones.

I could feel the eyes of Nero and Arden watching me, but they were silent as they observed me, like I was some sort of caged bear at one of Knight Valiant's tournaments. Probably disturbed at my lack of comment at his decision, eventually Nero spoke again, giving me the impression that he wasn't the sort to be silent for very long.

"Do you have no reply? I should have thought you would argue with me creature. I must say, I am pleased you've decided to listen to reason since I've no desire to escort you on the point of a blade."

His words irked me. I understood enough of what I was now to know why I was being called a creature. Still the name stung like the blade he had threatened me with and despite my sorrow I could feel my blood begin to boil in anger. It was a rare sensation for me, since I rarely had anything to feel angry about. I resented my mother surely, but wasting anger on her was as futile as wishing to escape my prison had been, and until today I didn't think it had ever been a possibility.

"I won't give you any trouble sir. Your blade won't be necessary. I assure you I have no intention of eating you or your sister now either, so you can put it away," I grimaced, trying my best to keep my heart beat steady. I had no desire to let my anger get the better of me and frighten the child any more than she already was.

Nero regarded me with suspicion still, though he did lower his weapon. As terrible as I may have looked it was an obvious assumption that I couldn't do any harm. I was too ignorant about myself and the world I lived in to be a real threat.

"You will sleep here tonight, there's a palate of straw in the corner that the dog uses. It's comfortable enough for you," he said, and I wasn't foolish enough to miss the jape. I was to sleep like the animal he'd decided I was. If he truly intended me to think lower of myself it was a pity he didn't realize I would be more comfortable there than I ever had been in my tower.

I watched as he retrieved ropes from an old barrel in the back of the shop. Doubtless they were used as part of his trade, but tonight they'd be used to ensure I didn't run away- as if I'd even consider trying that again anyway. I didn't fight as he tied my arms and legs together, a little too tightly so that the ropes rubbed and chafed uncomfortably. I'd simply walked from one prison to another.

Laying down on the palate I could smell what was obviously the scent of dog lingering on the straw, but it didn't bother me. Nero was talking to Arden in hushed tones that I couldn't quite hear over the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the town around me, though she did glance back at me several times so I had a feeling that the conversation was about me in some way.

I thought about how fervently she had wished to believe in her grandmother, and while Nero insisted that Agatha had lost her mind, I didn't want to think about such a terrible end for her. She was always so wise and strong, and imagining her any less than how I remembered her was both heartbreaking and impossible- especially with Arden believing in her words so fervently.

Just as I felt my exhaustion get the better of me despite my discomfort, a loud banging noise reverberated throughout the smithy, the knocks were hollow and desperate, and frightening enough that the tiredness I'd just felt was replaced instantly by fear. Had my mother learned of my escape before I'd even had the chance to return? If she had, I'd be sure to kneel at her feet and promise never to do something so foolish again- that if only she'd told me what I looked like I wouldn't have ever questioned her judgement and beg her forgiveness.

The knocking drew Nero and Arden's attention away from me as well, Arden's face turning a deathly, white sheen while Nero grabbed the sword that'd he'd only just used towards me.

Yet as soon as a voice called into shop the two seemed to relax. It was obviously a person who was familiar to the siblings, though why they'd be knocking so desperately I'd no clue.

Nero unhitched the door he'd bolted as soon as we had returned, and in walked an enormous man. He was as wide as he was tall with a russet beard that had begun to grey at the edges. He carried a large sack on his back, and for the size of it, it seemed as if any normal man would have struggled with its weight- but not him.

With a gentleness I wouldn't have guessed he would be able to possess, he placed the sack on the worktable all without uttering another word to either Nero or his sister. Hoping to remain invisible to the giant, I slunk as deeply into the palate and into the corner as I possibly could, and it seemed that for a moment, even Nero and Arden had forgotten about me to face their current predicament.

"I found another one, floating in the river- or what'ever we call that mud pit the river's become," the man said, in a voice as booming and loud as one would expect from a person of his size.

Nero uttered a curse word that I was certain his grandmother would disapprove of, and ran his hand over the length of the bag, as if he were treasuring its contents- whatever they were.

"That's three of them this week alone Brynjar," Nero sighed, clenching his eyes in what seemed to be frustration.

"Let's see it then. Arden, go upstairs, you don't need to look," he said, but the girl refused to move.

"Yes, I do," she said with utter certainty, and I found myself growing more and more curious about whatever was in the bag. Nero unlaced the sides of it, pulling the strings apart reluctantly, as if he didn't wish to look himself. Even from the corner I could smell it, a putrid odor that I didn't recognize, but from the brown gunk covering the figure on the table, I thought it might be mud from the river the giant man said he'd found it in. While my eyes still struggled to see, I thought that what I was looking at might be an elderly woman. At first, I thought she might be dead, but I could see the shape of her chest moving up and down, albeit very slowly. Her breathing sounded so wheezy I was amazed I hadn't heard it earlier.

Nero shook his head sadly.

"Is there anything we can do for her?' he asked the man, whom I assumed was called Brynjar, a name that sounded strange to my ears.

"The Healer says naught. Though the girl does nothing but utter fearful speeches- that is when she says anything at all. Still it's better than the others we've found- at least she's alive," he replied, his thickly bearded face looking distraught. It was only then that I came to the realization that the men were talking about a woman, and that even though the shriveled figure on the table looked nothing like a woman now, it was apparent that she had I wanted to get closer to get a good look at her myself I didn't dare move, and I was tethered down so firmly that I doubted I'd be able to anyway.

"Do you think we'll get any information from her?"

"Not bloody likely, she's as good as dead," Brynjar said, exasperated. Yet as I listened to the conversation, I began to feel pity for her. They were speaking about her as if she didn't exist, and despite the fact that she was made fearful for whatever reason I had yet to discover, I couldn't imagine they were helping the situation by commenting about it within her earshot. Not only was I concerned for the woman however, but also for Arden, as her face stared determinedly at the woman on the table- as if looking away would make her weak.

In order to call the attention away from the victim, I spoke, willfully engaging myself to Nero's rage and his new companion's scrutiny.

"If you wan't information from her, it's best not to speak ill of her in her presence," I said confidently. My idea succeeded, as Nero cursed again and Brynjar leapt into the air in a manner that was so unsuited to his girth that it was nearly comical. I had forgotten, temporarily, about my visage. The commotion in the room had made me as bold as I had been on the street, though for ill or not I was certain I'd find out.

"Ash and blood Nero, what manner of thing is this?" the giant demanded, crouching low as if he were readying himself for a battle.

"An excellent question my friend, I'm only surprised you haven't heard the rumors yet. My sister let this thing out of the Broken Tower- a lapse in judgement that she regrets now I'm sure. I had to drag it back here before anyone learned it was my sister that let it out."

He shamed me in front of the newcomer, and I felt the need to defend myself before I was judged prematurely based on an appearance I could hardly help.

"I am not a thing, nor am I an it. Your grandmother named me Elora herself, and you disrespect her memory as much as you disrespect me. I might not be glowing with maidenly beauty, but I'm not about to let you continue to insult me, or this new woman while we are well within earshot."

Brynjar looked shocked for a moment, but then much to my astonishment he burst into laughter that was so strong I half believed that he was going to topple the entire smithy.

"Not glowing with maidenly beauty she says! Why, she's got more eloquence then you little lordling. Perhaps you might take lessons!"

Nero glowered at the comment, and I found myself curious as to why he was addressed as a lordling by the big man. He certainly didn't behave like the nobility I'd ever read about, granted my mother didn't fit the description very well either. Still, I was quite sure that no lord would be working as a blacksmith either, though there was no time to question him on the matter before I was looked over by Brynjar. He didn't seem as afraid of me as the others had been, instead he regarded me with curiosity and mild amusement. I had to admit that his mirth at seeing me lessened the sorrow I'd just felt considerably. I'd rather be mocked then reviled.

"I've seen all manner of beings in my travels, but never one such as you. Tell me, how did you become this way."

"I don't know. I was born such." It was only a little bit of a lie. I knew my mother had used dark magic to create me, but that didn't mean I knew why her attempt at having a powerful son had failed her, or why I looked as I did. She'd never told me. Perhaps she felt I didn't need to know, despite the fact I wished so desperately that I did.

"And who put you in that accursed tower?" he continued.

"The Queen." That much, at least, could be the truth. "And although I wasn't aware of the reason until recently, I'm fairly certain that it's because I look the way I do."

"Last time I checked, ugliness was hardly a crime. If it were, our dear little lordling would have far fewer men under his banner- myself included. Nevertheless girl, I'd love to know why our beloved monarch decided to lock you in that forsaken tower instead of just putting you out of your misery- no offence meant of course,"

"I've had years to dwell on the matter, and still have no more insight now as I did when I was a child. I'm afraid there are few answers I could give you, other than a new found understanding of my appearance at the point of your friend's sword," I said, managing the slightest bit of defiance in my voice. Brynjar turned to look at the friend in question, an expression almost of disappointment shadowing his gruff features, and turned back to me.

"You must forgive the lad, he's not yet learned his manners it seems. His grandmother would be rightly ashamed of him." Nero clearly didn't enjoy being spoken of in such a manner, especially in his presence, but something about Brynjar's attitude made him maintain his silence- for which I was exceptionally grateful.

"I must admit sir, his reaction seems far more normal than yours has. I am a monster after all- begging your pardon." I said, quickly remembering the pleasantries Agatha had taught me. Caught in the trap of Nero's bluntness I had been less inclined to recall my own good behavior, though I wanted to make a good impression of myself now.

Brynjar looked towards the table, at the figure lying there, and gestured for me to come and look. I didn't think he'd realized that I was bound, and when he had, he tossed another annoyed look at Nero, who was still seething with anger. Arden had finally managed to step away from the woman on the table, and was staring quietly at the fire, as if the sight of the flames might burn the sight of whatever she'd seen from her eyes.

After Brynjar had freed me with a small blade he'd kept in his pocket I began to approach the figure, although I did so with some amount of trepidation. I had no desire to gawk at the woman, for although it was clear that whatever had happened to her merited some sort of stare I was slowly beginning to understand how uncomfortable it was to be looked upon as if you were out of sorts. I didn't wish to cause her any more pain than she was doubtless feeling with her current condition.

She lay on the table, her skin shriveled, dry and covered with the same spots of age that Agatha had began to get during the last year of my time with her. Large, discolored bruises had formed on her arms and legs in the shape of fingers and hands, as if she was so delicate that even the slightest touch would break her. Her wheezing breath came from a mouth full of aged, yellow teeth with a white tongue, and her eyes were glazed over with a translucent veil- the same as Agatha's had been.

Although I had met only one elderly person in my life, something bothered me about the woman. Despite the fact I was sure she couldn't see me I could almost watch the images that had so terrified her run across her pale eyes. Something about her condition was unnatural, and I had a lurching feeling that I knew exactly what, or who, had caused it. The feeling of complete and utter wrongness hung in the air over her like a thick, damp fog while she muttered incomprehensible words over and over again.

"The Queen did this," I said, in the faintest of whispers. Brynjar grunted in affirmation,

"That's why we're bringing you back to that tower. She wants you there for a reason, and I've no desire to have her soldiers on our backs while they look for you. Our work is too important to risk her discovering us," Nero said, finally finding it in himself to interrupt the giant.

"Now now little lordling, if she is valuable to the Queen, then mightn't she prove an asset to our cause?" Brynjar argued in my defense. I decided I liked him in that moment.

"No asset is more valuable than my sister's life, than the lives of my men- you included Bryn. She's going back, and that's final."

Brynjar cast a look at Arden, who was still staring at the fire. He didn't argue with Nero anymore.

"May I at least learn more about the work I'm meant to protect with my freedom. It's the least you can offer me, don't you think?" I asked, feeling depressed at the loss of my champion.

"I am going to kill the Queen. That's all you need to know."

The confidence with which he spoke took me by surprise. I didn't think it would be easy to talk about killing anyone, then again I knew little enough about people to hold much confidence in the theory. Still, for all of the evil she had done to me, and I was sure to countless others, I found myself unhappy with his declaration. I had read of Knight Valiant slaying monsters, and the idea of putting vile creatures to death wasn't foreign to me- yet I was far more of a vile creature than she who'd created me. Further still, she was my mother, and the complete lack of mercy that I heard in his mission made me wonder what had caused him to be so terribly cold.

"I think you're wrong, but you've answered my question at least in part."

"How can I be wrong, when you've seen what she's done to this woman- with what she's done to you? Arden told me you'd been locked up in that tower forever, and you can forgive her for that?"

"I don't know, but Knight Valiant always sought to be merciful."

"Knight Valiant is a fairy tale told to children. The Queen is irredeemable, and takes pleasure in watching my home wither and die." I had clearly touched a nerve, but I was too frustrated with him to stay silent despite my exhaustion.

"It's true I know little of what is outside my tower, but I don't think anyone is irredeemable. My world was nothing but black and white for as long as I can remember in that cell. You were born in color and light, but I still think I can see the right of things better than you."

Nero's eyes narrowed as he glowered at me, the fire of the hearth making them literally burn with anger. Yet I put faith into every word I said. Even Brynjar and Arden were regarding me with some sort of appreciation for my words. Perhaps they were ones they felt he ought to hear.

"I refuse to be judged by a monster," was his curt reply, and he stormed up the wooden stairs without another look at me, his sister, Brynjar or even the withered woman, still wheezing her inscrutable words to whomever would listen.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hello everyone, please enjoy the next chapter of _Withered._ I want to take a moment and sincerly thank all of my reviewers, seriously you all are the best, and have really encouraged me to continue this story as quickly as I could. I hope I continue meet your expectations! And keep providing as many questions as I do answers (for now at least :)

3 C.V.

**Chapter Four- The Mouse's Tail**

Once Nero had left, to where I presumed his home was above the forge, Brynjar shook his head.

"I'm sorry lass," he said, and I had to admit I didn't care for the pity in his eyes. I was trying not to dwell on Nero's comment for my sanity's sake, and I didn't exactly want to relieve it in in the sympathy of others- no matter how well their intentions.

"Is he always so badly behaved?" I asked, and while I had meant the question to be rhetorical, and for my own ears I had been heard by the others. I was so used to having only myself to speak to that I would need to get used to others being present- though I supposed since I would be returning to the tower on the morrow guarding my tongue now wouldn't matter much.

At my comment Brynjar scoffed.

"Stubborn yes, cruel no. Not long ago he'd be frolicking in taverns with a wench on each knee this time of night. While I'm not opposed to his discovery of responsibility he oughtn't be so sour. His grandmother's passing it was, that caused him to change so."

"It's my fault," Arden interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"When grandmother died he had to take care of me, and he hates me for it"

"Now my little lady, you know that's not true," Brynjar tried to soothe her. For a humorless looking man, he could certainly behave gently towards others, I thought, while watching him take her in his great arms. She was weeping now, not that I could blame her. First, Nero had scolded her for letting me out of the tower, and then she'd seen the poor old woman on the table. Frankly, I was surprised she'd maintained her calm for so long, but I still cursed her brother for being so insensitive. She was acting more of an adult than a child, and solving the world's problems should never have been a goal she should have undertaken.

"I only wanted to help him. That's why I went to the tower. Grandmother said Elora's book would help us, and I worked so hard to get it and I only made everything worse! Now brother is even more angry with me," she sobbed into Brynjar. I'd never seen crying before, although I'd done my fair share of it as a child it was different, watching tears drip down Arden's face, and it broke my heart.

Although I was clearly not experienced in comforting anyone but myself I knew that I was the reason for her trouble, and unintentional or not I had caused a rift between the siblings. Who knew how long they would have argued about me before Brynjar entered carrying the old woman.

"Arden, I don't think your brother was angry with you. I'm sure that he was incredibly worried. My tower was hardly s safe place for you to visit, and someone much more frightening than myself could have been inside- they could have hurt you," I said in a tone much softer than the one I'd used on her brother.

"The lass is right little lady, you're the only family your brother's got left. Imagine how he'd feel if you'd been eaten by a dragon!" Brynjar said, hoping it would make her laugh. Unfortunately his words and mine seemed to have the opposite effect and she cried even harder.

The old woman on the table began coughing, the sound of thick, phlegm evident in her throat. I thought she must have been sorely uncomfortable lying there on a blacksmith's table, and I was struck with an idea to help the girl rid herself of the uselessness she was undoubtedly feeling.

"Arden, there may be something you can do to help," I said, and she looked up at me a little suspiciously, her eyes barely parting from Brynjar's chest.

"What is it?" she sniffed.

"This old lady here is very sick, isn't she?" I asked, and Arden looked at the wheezing woman with what was more fear than pity.

"I think that she could stand to be a little more comfortable, don't you? Can you help me at least move her to the straw down here?" I asked. It was obvious that I could have asked Brynjar, and in truth I was counting on his help as well, though I wouldn't say so.

"Isn't that where you're going to sleep?" she wondered, but I shook my head.

"I don't need comforts like that. You saw where I'm used to sleeping. I'll be glad of just the fire."

"I could get," sniffle "a blanket maybe? What about some water to wash the mud off with. It smells and I'm sure she'd be much better if she were clean and warm." Arden continued, tears stopping while she considered everything else she could do to assist the poor woman.

The three of us in the room gently lifted her body towards the straw, and though I wished there were somewhere better to leave her I knew too little about my surroundings to suggest anything. Arden and I were hardly strong enough to accomplish anything, and so it was truly Brynjar who did all the work. When we'd finished, Arden set to work, going to the well to fetch water, and searching for anything she could find that might help the woman. As she busied herself, Brynjar grinned at me, though not without a little melancholy shadowing his features.

"You did well lass. The poor child only wants to help, and while I wish I could tell her that she was misreading her brother, truth is he has been acting like a self-righteous prat lately."

"I hadn't noticed," I answered sarcasm dripping from my voice, and Brynjar laughed. We watched Arden is silence for a while, until my curiosity finally got the better of me and I found the courage to ask him something that had been bothering me for a while.

"I know that it doesn't matter, since I'll be going back to that tower tomorrow, but I can't help but wonder what she was doing in the river," I said, hoping urgently for an answer that would give me enough to think on for the days-years- to come.

"That's what the Queen does to all the girls she's used up. She leaves them to die," he answered.

"She needs them, for their beauty and their youth- since she's got none of it left herself. Whatever spell she's got worked on the king relies on that beauty, so she can't go without until he's dead and buried. Even then I think she's too vain to let herself fade."

"The king is still alive?" I mused. I'd always considered him my father, though if it was really him or the darkness that had spawned me I'd no idea.

"Alive but absent I fear. That harpy's got this whole land wrapped around her dainty little finger, and anyone that goes and says anything against her gets missing if you understand my meaning." Brynjar's words were disturbing. I'd clearly underestimated my mother's cruelty.

"But this one here," he continued, gesturing to the woman whom Arden was helping clean up, "she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A serving girl perhaps, or maybe a chambermaid so desperate for coin she risked working in the palace. No pretty girl lasts for long in there, before she catches the Queen's eye and she's withered. Nero's lady mother included."

Understanding washed over me like a wave and I suddenly felt my insides turn inside out. The Queen had stolen this girl's life. That was why her aging seemed so unnatural to me before, and why she was covered in not only the filth of mud, but of black magic as well.

No words could convey the depth of my grief, or how the hatred towards my mother bubbled up inside me. I understood why Nero wanted her dead. She had undoubtedly hurt so many woman that it defied counting, even his mother, and I had defended that monster in front of him. It was no wonder he had spoken to me so cruelly, for I had been ignorant to his suffering and had probably rubbed his grief in his face.

"The Queen killed their mother like this?" I asked, not wishing to know more, despite the fact that I knew I needed to understand.

"Aye. Lady Lyanna was a beauteous woman, all grace and delicacy. They say the Queen was jealous and took the Lady's beauty for herself. Their father, in his grief, took his own life and the children were left in their grandmother's care. She gave up all the trappings of nobility and fled her old life to take residence up next to the forge here. Yet even I don't know the whole of the story. The lordling won't speak of it, he'd only seen 12 summers when it happened, and Arden was but an infant..

"I shouldn't have said those things to him. If only I'd have known.." I said, full of remorse. Even if I hadn't meant to, I'd defended the woman responsible for killing his parents, and regardless of whether or not I desired my mother to be redeemed or not, I could at least understand Nero's pain.

"Even so, the boy ought to learn patience and tolerance." I couldn't argue with the man there, and hoping it was the end of the conversation about him I moved to assist Arden, lest the deposed lord in question overhear anything that would make him loathe me even more.

This time, as I moved closer to her, Arden didn't flinch as she looked my way, and I felt my heart stir at the small victory. Perhaps it was simply because she was too focused on her task, but it still made me feel a little better. I'd never meant to frighten her after all.

I cleaned the towels she'd used to clean the mud off of the woman and handed them back to her fresh, and after some time in that manner, at least the stench of the river had been mostly cleaned away from her wrinkled skin.

All the while her pale eyes watched us as we worked, her breath rasping in and out.

"Nero says I should look at them, when Brynjar finds them," Arden said, a little sadly.

"He says it will make me stronger, to know what will happen to me if the Queen isn't destroyed."

I remembered Arden's words in the tower, and how now I could hear Nero's influence in them, despite the fact that I barely knew them both. I pitied her and related to her all at the same time. Both of us had never been able to act as the children we were. She grew up ahead of her time while I remained in sorrowful ignorance, still I could understand her at least in part.

"Perhaps he's right. Although I don't know much of this place, I think there is always a need to be cautious," I answered, not wanting to contradict her brother any further tonight. I thought the poor girl's mind must have been muddled enough. I thought about Agatha, and about what she might have told Arden to comfort her. I didn't claim to be nearly half as wise as she'd been, but I brought my mind back to her stories, and the wisdom I could pass on from them as if she were still here now. I needed a reprieve from my own thoughts as well, and nothing served that purpose like a story.

"Tell me Arden, did Agatha ever tell you of Knight Valiant?" I asked, softly. The child shook her head, dark hair waving back and forth through the air as she moved.

"The book I gave you was all about his heroic deeds."

"Nero says that stories are just fancy, and reading them puts nonsense in our heads."

I narrowed my eyes, not surprised that such words had come from him, and sighed deeply.

"Maybe so, but your grandmother once told me that there was true wisdom to be had in stories- that they're told to teach us a lesson." Arden looked down sadly.

"That does sound like something she'd say."

"There is one story that reminds me of today, but if you think it's nonsense perhaps I'd best not tell it," I said, hoping Arden would take the bait I'd lain hidden in my words. I remembered being a child myself, and when I was in a sour mood Agatha would tempt me to listen to one of her lessons by assuring me I didn't want to in the first place. I was astounded by how well it worked.

"Well, perhaps a story would comfort this lady here," she said, allowing me to tell it freely without listening to my nonsense- as her brother would call it.

"An excellent notion, I shall do my best to put her mind at ease then," I agreed, a smile on my face. And so I began the tale in the same way Agatha always had:

_Once upon a time, in a kingdom so old you've probably never heard of it, rode Knight Valiant. He was a knight with no equal- as brave and strong as he was handsome and clever. His golden armor made his brightness envy the sun's itself. His white cloak trailed after him like the tip of a powerful wave as his great white horse carried him towards the cave of a mighty beast.._

_The folk in the nearby village called the creature the Spittlewag, for it was said that it could bring forth a venom so potent that it could burn a full grown man in less than a second._

_Now, Knight Valiant was well versed in his knowledge of the creatures that dwell in dark caves, and he'd learned through vigorous study that the only way to render the creature harmless was to clip off the only hair on its great head. Many men had tried and failed, and while plucking a single hair from a head seems like hardly a difficult task, no one could even get close enough to brush it with their fingers before they met a terrible end._

_When he reached the cave, he realized he was not the first to arrive at the entrance. Already, there was a hulking bear, a quiet and clever panther, and a stag that was quick and graceful. The animals were deep in conversation about how to rid their forest of the beast, who was quickly devouring all of their food and making their home an unfit place to dwell any longer._

_Now, in this old kingdom, animals still had sense enough between them to speak to men, and when Knight Valiant entered their company, he listened to them debate for a while._

_"I am the strongest!" the bear would shout. "Only I can overpower the Spittlewag to get its hair!"_

_"Nonsense," the panther growled in response. "I am as black as the shadows in the cave, I can deceive the Spittlewag with my stealth before he even notices."_

_"You are forgetting I am the swiftest of us three," interrupted the stag. "Only I can reach his head quickly enough to escape danger."_

_The three creatures were so lost in their argument that none save Knight Valiant noticed the other voice, fighting to be heard among the ruckus. But when the others saw the tiny brown mouse struggling to be noticed they roared with laughter._

_"You mouse? You think you can defeat the Spittlewag?" The bear guffawed. "You're not large enough even, for me to dine on you."_

_"I wish to save the forest every bit as much as you, for it is my home as well. I am what I am, but what I am is every bit as strong as you," the little mouse squeaked, his voice full of pride and stubbornness. Knight Valiant appreciated the creature's desire to save his land, and bade the other animals to let the fellow have a chance, but his pleas were for naught._

_First, the bear entered the cave, but for all his strength, in barely a moment he had run out of the cave, his stubby tail hissing with the sting of the Spittlewag's venom._

_It was the panther's turn next, and while he lasted longer than the bear had, the Spittlewag set his tail to venom as well, the big cat howling in pain as he ran about to stop the burning._

_Finally, the stag entered, making a dash towards the Spittlewag deep within, but before long his own tail had been set upon by the monster._

_As the three animals nursed their aching backsides the mouse stepped forward._

_"Don't enter little mouse!" The stag cried, "It will only mean your doom!" The bear and panther repeated the stag's protestations. Yet the little, brown mouse would hear none of it, and entered the cave while the others watched with baited breath._

_After what seemed like ages, a great roar could be heard from within the cavern as the Spittlewag fell to the ground, his hair having been plucked clean out. The mouse left the cave, the thick, black hair wrapped around its neck like a cloak of honor._

_And all the animals of the forest wondered how the mouse had done it, and asked what heroic feat he'd managed to accomplish to be more victorious than the creatures far stronger than he._

_"So small was I, and so beneath the Spittlewag's notice, that I simply climbed up and took it. No one ever fears a mouse."_

_The mouse was forever branded a hero in that forest, and though Knight Valiant had no need to draw his blade he'd learned a valuable lesson before he rode forth again, awaiting his next adventure._

As the last words of the story finished, Arden's eyes were wide upon me, and I imagined she looked quite the way I had when Agatha had just finished telling me one of her tales, and so like Agatha, I asked her,

"What did Knight Valiant learn from the mouse?"

Arden thought for a moment, her brow wrinkled as she formed an answer in her mind.

"That one needn't be big or strong to be a hero. They must simply be themselves and do what is right."

I nodded, my eyes shining with the pride Agatha's might have if she could have still seen. We sat in silence for a little while, the wheezing of the woman and the crackling of the fire the only noise in the room.

I had almost forgotten Brynjar was with us when he told Arden it was well past her bedtime, and that she ought to get some rest. The girl looked at me then, her eyes a little melancholy.

"I liked your story. Perhaps someday you might tell me another," she muttered, although both of us knew that I was going back to the tower in the morning and the chances of that were few and far between. I smiled back at her anyway, and turned to the old woman who was still staring her blank stare. I wished that I knew what I was- so that like the mouse I could learn to be myself and be a hero for her.

Doing the only thing I could think of to do, I took her wrinkled hand, covered with the spots of age and the smell of decay. With all of my might, I prayed that there was something, anything, I could do to take back my mother's evil before she claimed another life. It was clear the old woman was failing fast, and though I knew little of healing arts, I was certain no healer could do anything to prevent dying of age.

The last thing I remember was thinking if only I could do something to ease the pain my mother had caused before my body was shaken by a jolt that seemed to come from the old woman herself. I felt like a part of me was being devoured whole by the light that overwhelmed my eyes and urged me to the sleep I so desperately needed.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks as always for your lovely feedback. I've felt so incredibly grateful to all of you. This chapter is one of the awkward in-betweeners that I hate so much, but unfortunately I can't skip to all the parts I want to write first.

**Chapter Five- Ignorance is Bliss**

I awoke with the feeling of the woman's hand still in mine. She was clutching me so tightly I thought my own hand might break with the force of her grasp. My head was running around in circles, a wave of nausea washed over me and the forge spun around me. I knew that my little misadventure had caused me to feel weaker than usual, and I was hungry too. I'd never been without access to the bread that I had managed to ration so that I would never feel too hungry all at once. Still, it had been a long while since I'd felt so ill, and I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and hope that everything I'd learned had been a cruel and terrible dream.

The faint light that shone through the cracks in the wooden walls of the smithy stretched across the floor in strange shapes and patterns. Seeing the light of day in a dose my eyes could handle brought me some sort of comfort, and I sighed, my voice as hoarse and dry as the wheezing woman's .

My thoughts directed back at her, I realized with a start that I could no longer hear her. There was no heavy breathing or mumbling. I wondered worriedly if perhaps she had passed away during the night, and my heart lurched at the thought. She was unfortunate, and would have died before her time if what Brynjar had told me about the Queen was true. As for myself, I was certain Nero would hold me somehow responsible for a fate that I doubted could have been avoided- least of all by him since he'd stormed away last night without even trying to offer the woman any sort of comfort.

I struggled to sit up, another wave of dizziness making me feel sick again. I wanted to see what condition the woman was in, but I was shocked at what I saw when my eyes focused.

The old woman whose hand I was holding was not what I remembered. Instead, she had miraculously become a lovely girl- and while she looked pale and a little unsettled, no one could deny that she was beautiful. Her hair was no longer a faded sort of grey, but instead, it was copper red- by far the most vibrant color I'd seen so far during my time out of the tower, and far brighter than the red lettering in my book. Freckles dotted the skin beneath her eyes, and her lips were full and plump. She was sleeping gently, breathing so softly I could hardly hear her. It was almost impossible for me to believe that she was the same person, and I wondered if someone had played a cruel trick on me as punishment for leaving my tower- if everything I'd seen had been an elaborate setup by someone crueler than I.

My fears were put to rest however, as soon as her eyes fluttered open to reveal irises that I thought might be green- though I'd never before seen the color to be certain.

She looked at me with the kind of fright that I was quite certain I ought to start getting used to, and when she noticed her hand gripping mine she released it quickly.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to speak to her, but if I was I had no idea what to say. Luckily, she spoke first, in no more than the faintest whisper.

"Who - what are you? Where am I?"

"My name is Elora, and though I may not look it, I am a girl. As for your second question, you are in a smithy."

"How did I get here? The last thing I remember was the Queen- oh light above! The Queen!" she screamed suddenly, drawing her hands to her face and clawing at her eyes like she was trying to remove the sight of whatever she was remembering.

Clutching her hands, I held them tightly against her in an embrace so that she didn't hurt herself and was comforted both. She must have seen something terrible to have been so affected by it.

"It's alright," I tried to soothe. "Whatever you saw and whatever happened to you is over now," I exclaimed over the sound of her inconsolable crying. I didn't know what to do. She seemed so afraid and so vulnerable that I feared my appearance would make her feel even worse. Luckily, her screaming must have awoken the other members of the household, and I listened as they clamored for clothes and rushed down the wooden stairs. Brynjar was first, seeing me with my arms wrapped tightly around the girl.

"What is going on here lass?" he demanded, and reluctantly I let the girl go so he could see what had happened. Brynjar paled instantly, his eyes were so wide they'd nearly doubled in size as he looked at us. Arden came down next and wore an equally perplexed expression, but kept her position on the stairs as if she were afraid to come closer.

"I don't know what happened. I woke up and she was like this, but then she remembered what the Queen did, and was scared again."

"Doubtless she was afraid of you," Nero's voice barked from up where his room was, and carrying a large blanket he approached us to wrap it around her. He didn't hesitate to push me aside, and my body was so weak I lost my balance and toppled to the ground. Embarrassed, I scrambled to get to a sitting position where I'd feel at least a little more comfortable.

It took the girl quite some time, and a lot of coaxing from everyone in the room, to collect herself. Finally, when the wailing had stopped, Nero felt it was safe to ask her some questions while pointedly avoiding my presence altogether.

"What's your name?"

"Liza Fish-daughter. My father was a fisherman before the lake dried up, but now we've no food. I had no choice but to work in the palace, even though everyone said the Queen would wither me if she saw me," the girl gushed through her sniffles.

"Has anyone gotten better from this before?" Nero asked Brynjar, who shook his great head no. Turning back to the girl Nero continued in a voice that was so gentle I could hardly believe it belonged to him.

"I know this must be difficult to remember, but you can help save many lives if you can tell me what happened to you." For a moment, it looked as if Liza would speak again, but just as the first word made to escape her lips, she froze and began to cry again. Nero waited patiently

"Take your time. No harm will come to you here." Perhaps it was his tone, or his words that put her to ease, but whatever it was that had made her feel more comfortable had compelled her to tell her own story.

"I was a maid in the palace, and my job was to work down in the palace kitchens, preparin' the meals for the Queen and her daughters. Everyone told me to keep to the servant's quarters, and never to leave. Otherwise the Queen might see me and wither me. But I was a right fool. I thought that such a thing couldn't really be true, and one night I snuck out to meet my lover. A guard saw me and told the Queen."

Liza stopped her telling for a moment, struggling with her telling. Nero held her hand kindly, and urged her to continue. I thought in that moment that he must really have been handsome after all, since Liza was looking at him with her big, pretty eyes like he was an anchor in a safe harbor. I couldn't help thinking that if he acted that way all the time I'd have liked him much better than I did now. His actions, while something noble Knight Valiant would do, seemed to be only an act to get the information he wanted from the girl.

"You've nothing to fear here Liza. Please keep going," he urged, the desire for knowledge adding a hint of desperation to his words now.

"When the Queen summoned me to her chambers I was real afraid. But she was nice to me, she even gave me sweets. I thought that everyone must be wrong about her until she put her lips on mine. Now I've been kissed before mind you, but this weren't no kiss between sisters or lovers. It was like she was pulling the life right out of me, and I watched my hands get wrinkled and old before she had her guards throw me in what's left of the river."

"Aye, and that's where I found you," Brynjar finished, his voice solemn. Liza's story seemed almost as fantastical as one from my book, but something inside of me was sure that she wasn't telling a falsehood. Nero looked as if he was deep in thought, and it took him a moment before he seemed to reach the same conclusion as I had. Unfortunately, since all of his other questions had been answered, the only one he had left was how her transformation had occurred in the first place.

"You had something to do with this," he said, looking at me pointedly. I shook my head furiously.

"I only offered a dying woman my hand. I can hardly be credited with restoring her youth!" Though in the back of my mind, the memory of the light I'd seen cast doubt on my words, and Nero noticed how I faltered.

"Something did happen! It's the only possible explanation. Once someone has withered there is no undoing it!" he exclaimed- experience shadowed his words and I couldn't help but recall what I'd heard about his mother. I felt sad for him and defensive for myself all at once.

"I don't know what happened! I've never taken hold of another person's hand until last night and now look at all the trouble I've caused! Please, just take me back to the tower," I begged. I didn't want to learn that what he and I both suspected was true, and that somehow I'd used magic to help the girl. I was not my mother, and I'd rather be locked away forever than learn that I was like her in any way.

I tried to get to my feet, to run somewhere- anywhere. But they gave way to that nauseous feeling again, and I would have fallen if Brynjar wouldn't have caught me.

Liza, who'd been quiet while watching our exchange began to look at me with curious intensity..

"You haven't caused any trouble. You've saved my life, if all he says is true. I thank you for it, truly."

"Well we still don't know that Elora is responsible for this miracle, but we can't afford to send you back if it is lass," Brynjar said, his arms still around me.

"Regardless, we have another problem on our hands. Do you have family Liza? Who can we let know that you're alright?" Nero asked her.

"My, uh, my lover Chester Flaubert. He's the innkeeper at The Captain's Flagon at the old harbor."

"I know of it. I'll find him to let him know you're safe and that he's to come and get you," Brynjar assured her, and after setting me down gently on the smithy's bench he went on his way. I wished he wouldn't have gone, because now I had no one to defend me against Nero. Arden was little help when facing her brother's wrath, and I hardly wanted her to have to.

"Arden, why don't you take Liza to your bedroom. She can use some rest," he said, though it was more an order than a request. She nodded and Liza followed her, both girls casting me looks of pity. They knew as well as I did that I was in for another interrogation.

"No matter how many times you ask me, I told you that I don't know what happened," I asserted, before he even had the chance to say a word. He sat opposite of me on the bench. The crackling fire, which had seemed so comforting before was now almost menacing as an undertone to his words.

"Are you a witch? Surely you must know that at least," he said, insult evident in his words. His voice was no longer gentle, but cutting like a knife.

"How would one know such a thing? If I am a witch nobody has ever seen fit to tell me so. Why are you so certain I had something to do with this?" I almost shouted before realizing that Liza was likely asleep.

"Because I see in your eyes that you believe it's true yourself."

I couldn't argue with him. As unkind as he'd been he was certainly perceptive, and had managed to read my facial expressions like a book. I doubted it would be hard really, since I'd never had much practice in concealing them.

"I swear to you, all I did was take her hand and wish she'd get better," I continued, wishing he'd just believe me and leave it at that. However, such a thing would be asking too much.

"And then?"

"And then I - I felt something strange. There was light everywhere and I found I couldn't stay awake any longer. Does that make me a witch?" I sounded pathetic, as if I were making up a story like I had the night before with Arden.

"I don't know what you are creature, but I think we ought to find out," he said, appraising me with his cold, blue eyes and making me feel more uncomfortable than I already did.

Mercifully, it wasn't too long before Brynjar returned, accompanied by a man who looked far too skinny for his height. His face was covered in freckles and his hair was thinning. Surely he couldn't be the man that Liza spoke of, since she was beautiful, and even to my untrained eye it was clear that he was not.

But as soon as she saw him, the girl jumped down the stairs into his arms, her eyes wet with tears of happiness. When he'd heard Brynjar enter, Nero had shoved me into the corner again and told me to cover myself with a blanket so that I didn't draw any unnecessary attention. Yet even from where I was, I watched the reaction between the lovers with curiosity, enthralled by their actions.

I'd never seen two people in love before, and it was truly a marvelous thing to behold. I'd seen Liza alone, and she was lovely. But now that she was with the one she loved, her beauty was magnified a thousand times over. When they stood there together in a tight embrace I knew that it was closer to real magic than whatever I'd done had been. It was almost as if they were surrounded by a warm glow that I knew I'd never felt before- one that I knew I never would no matter how much I might wish from it.

Suddenly, despite the joy of the occasion I felt myself wanting to cry again. I'd cried more in the past day than I had in my entire life, but witnessing such profound emotion was overwhelming me. I had realized long ago that living in that tower was depriving me of the things most people experienced as infants, but there was something about the passion and intensity behind the love I was seeing that made my already hideous skin grow gooseflesh. I was glad for the blanket, since nobody would be able to see me embarrass myself further.

After Liza left, assuring Nero and Brynjar that she would leave the city as soon as she was able and thanking everyone profusely, the room became more somber almost instantly.

She'd never said any farewells to me, but I didn't think it was because she'd forgotten me. More likely she understood I didn't want to be seen by the innkeeper she was in love with, and I appreciated her consideration of my feelings.

Arden, who'd been standing with her brother while saying her farewells, moved over to take a seat by me in the corner. She slumped down and sighed, though she didn't say anything at first. Instead, the two of us half-listened to Nero and Brynjar bicker about what was best to do with me.

I was happy that she was willingly getting close to me after last night, and though I didn't understand why, being in the close proximity of another person was incredibly comforting.

"Did you really use magic to save that girl?" she finally asked after quite some time had passed.

"I think so, but I wish that it wasn't true," I answered somberly.

"But why? You did a good thing! Liza would have died if it weren't for you," she protested for my sake. I almost would have felt grateful for her praise if the reality of the situation wasn't weighing on me like a mountain.

"I don't want to be a witch. I'm already a monster."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **So I wrote this one very fast, in part because today was a holiday in Korea, but mostly because I've been inspired by all of the amazing comments I received. I seriously can't thank everyone enough. I've never felt so compelled to continue writing before. I really hope I don't let you down, and that you will continue to enjoy Withered.

**Chapter 6- Brave and Foolish**

"Arden, get some bathwater," Nero ordered his sister.

"Why?" she wondered.

"If it's not going back to the tower, then it can at least be clean." Arden smiled at me a little awkwardly and got up. I found I missed the comfort of her presence almost immediately.

"I'm not an it. You could do me the courtesy of calling me by my name. Your grandmother chose it after all, and although you clearly think she was mad she was also blind, and couldn't see me for what I was."

"What you are," Nero corrected, and the sorrow I'd felt after Liza's departure soon gave way to anger, though I couldn't argue with him. He was right, after all. Instead I took a deep breath and sighed deeply.

"If you're not taking me back to the tower, what are your plans for me?" I asked, clenching my teeth while I tried to maintain my calm.

"We need to find out what you are, and nobody in this city will be able to help us," Nero answered firmly. He was right, at least to a point. For the Queen knew what I was, she just hadn't told me.

"We'll make for the mountains lass, a land so old that the magics of long ago still linger. It's where I'm from," Brynjar interrupted with a smiling face. I wasn't sure how I was expected to travel, especially when the light blinded my eyes and my feet were so unused to walking, but I thought it best not to make mention of my problems for the time being. Truth be told, I did want to find out what I was, and if someone in the mountains could tell me, then I'd be willing to risk far more than sore feet and a little illness.

Perhaps, if what Brynjar said was true, someone in the mountains could help fix me. Maybe they could make me beautiful, or at least normal enough to have the life that I'd dreamed of for so long. I imagined it for a time, until Arden called me from up the stairs.

"Elora, I've got your bath ready."

I looked at Nero, as if I was searching for his permission to climb the stairs. It had seemed to me like the area was off limits before. He said nothing, but gestured for me to go up to where Arden was calling.

Tentatively, I climbed the stairs, the wood creaking as I went. The apartments above the forge were small, nothing like where I'd imagined a lord and lady to live. They were warm though, and had been made to look comfortable. There were a few wall hangings that looked far too rich for where they'd been hung, and so I wondered if they'd been brought from wherever Nero's family had lived before. A copper basin was set up in a bedroom, presumably Arden's. There was a little bed, with a straw mattress and faded, brown blankets.

I didn't really consider the implications of what taking a bath meant, as I'd never really had one before. The idea of being immersed in water was an uncomfortable one, especially when Arden told me I ought to remove my clothes before I got in. A little reluctantly, I shrugged out of my old rags and stepped into the basin. The feeling of the warm water shocked me, and I found myself backing up in fear.

"It's only water Elora," Arden said, clearly trying to suppress her laughter. Embarrassed, I made my way into the water again, and once I'd grown used to the unfamiliar sensation I found myself relaxing. After just a minute, the water was so dirty that Arden had to fetch more. Before I was truly clean, she'd had to refill the tub three times, and I felt sorry that I couldn't do it myself. She helped clip off my fingernails and toenails, a task which I wouldn't have envied, so I couldn't help but apologize to her over and over again.

Surprisingly though, the girl didn't seem too upset about her job. I wondered what had endeared her to me. Perhaps it was the story I'd told her, or maybe she thought that I did have some magic after all. Nevertheless, it was a nice feeling, to be wanted and not reviled.

Once Arden felt I was sufficiently clean, a task which took nearly ages, she left the room and came back with a pile of clothing. Patiently, she taught me how to put it on. There were so many different pieces Undergarments, a chemise, a bodice and skirt, and without her, I'd have had no idea how to even dress myself. The clothing seemed to be new, the blue and white cloth didn't appear worn or faded, and it was softer than any dream I'd ever had.

"Where did you get this?" I asked Arden. Although I was as thin as her, I was certainly taller, so I couldn't have fit into her clothing at all.

"Brynjar gave it to me," she answered nonchalantly while she handed me a pair of leather shoes. I slipped them on awkwardly. I'd never had shoes before, and they felt strange and confining on my feet.

"Well, I'd say it is a vast improvement," the girl said, clearly pleased with herself. I smiled back at her, since I'd never been clean in my life and it felt better than I'd considered it would. The two of us broke our fast with bread and what Arden called cheese, the most delicious thing I'd never tasted. When we'd finished I felt truly rejuvenated and refreshed. My former weakness had all but abated.

When I returned downstairs, both Nero and Brynjar seemed to be packing their belongings into large satchels, and they were so deep in thought that it took a moment before they realized Arden and I had arrived.

Brynjar saw us first, and when his eyes met mine he smiled warmly.

"Now there's a sight lass. You look-" he said, at a loss for words. It wasn't like he could call me any of the usual compliments he must have paid women. I wasn't lovely, beautiful or pretty, and calling me so would only be a lie.

"Cleaner?" I suggested.

"Exactly so," the big man laughed. Nero didn't even look up from his task, but I hadn't really expected him to. I didn't want kind words from him either, since I had a feeling they'd be as contrived as a pig who could fly. I chose to just ignore him.

"Thank you for the dress sir. It was very kind of you," I said, remembering my compliments. Brynjar grinned.

"I'm not the one you'll be wanting to thank for that," he answered, nodding his head to Nero. I couldn't have been more shocked if Knight Valiant had appeared in the room on his giant steed. I stood for a moment, my mouth gaping like a fish. I realized I didn't want to thank Nero for anything, but he had done me a kindness, no matter how out of character it had been.

"Thank you Nero," I said dutifully.

"No thanks are necessary. Just don't give me any problems on the road and I'll consider the coin well spent." He didn't look up as he spoke, and thinking I was safe from his scrutiny I tossed him an annoyed grimace.

"When are we leaving?" Arden asked, clearly nonplussed by her brother's behavior. She must have been used to it by now, though I imagined I'd never tolerate such callousness well.

"As soon as I'm sure we have everything," her brother replied, going over his materials for probably the hundredth time.

"Aye little lordling, we have everything," Brynjar laughed, although Nero didn't look half so amused.

"It's a long trip Bryn, we can't afford to forget anything important."

"True enough, but if we don't get going soon somebody is bound to notice a certain lass is missing from her tower."

Brynjar was right. I didn't know when it would be discovered that I was no longer inside the cell, but I had no desire to be caught. If my mother learned I'd escaped who knew what she'd try and do to me, especially if I really did have some strange power. Obviously she hadn't wanted me to discover it. Though I still didn't understand why, if I was such a danger, she hadn't simply killed me to begin with.

It seemed that Brynjar's words affected Nero, and it didn't take him much longer to give us all a satchel to carry so we could be on our way. Before we left however, he walked overto a chest in the corner of the smithy and pulled out a hooded, violet cloak. It was evident that it was richly made, as it had been embroidered with beautiful detail. Around the hood and hem, silver birds looked as if they might leap from the velvet and fly away.

He handed it to me.

"The hood will cover your eyes, and keep your face hidden. We don't want another incident like yesterday."

"It's beautiful," I murmured, more to myself than to him. Still, he answered.

"It was my mother's. Take care of it, will you?" he asked, his voice suddenly the gentle tone he'd used with Liza.

"I shall, thank you," I answered. This time, I meant my gratitude whole-heartily. Cruel as he may have been, at least Nero was more thoughtful than I'd given him credit for- although it would take much more than a cloak for me to endear myself to him.

I drew the hood over my face as we left the smithy. It was a sunny day, and the light still stung my eyes, though it was much better than the day before. The fires in the smithy and the light that streamed through holes in the wall helped my eyes to adjust much better then they had.

I walked through the streets with much more confidence, and though the hood was drawn quite low and my eyes were still unused to brightness, I began to make out much more of the city.

It was hardly anything like I'd anticipated, and I felt my heart fall in disappointment. The streets were dusty, and there was an air of gloom about the place. The shops and houses that lined the streets were decrepit and full of holes just like Nero's smithy had been. Everything looked bleak.

As we continued to make our way to wherever Nero was leading us, I noticed what I thought must have been a tree, and for a moment I was more excited than I could say. Yet as I regarded it more closely I realized that it must not have been alive. It had no leaves, and in the dry wind the branches clacked together to make a hollow sound that I remembered from when I'd first escaped the tower. What I thought had been skeletal wasn't far from the truth, since the tree was so long dead that I was surprised it was still standing.

For some reason, the sight of that tree made me more acutely aware of just how sorrowful the city was, and when we arrived at what used to be the river I only saw puddles of the thick, wet mud that had been slathered all over Liza when Brynjar had found her.

"Was it always like this?" I asked, more to myself than to anyone in particular.

"Where are the birds, the green trees and the blue waters? Stately manors and lords and ladies walking about to do their business?"

"Not what you expected?" Nero asked, a little snidely. I refused to let him bother me.

"I've dreamed about what the outside would look like for so long, and now that I'm here I find I preferred the version I invented in the tower."

Nero moved closer to me, and lifted the hood of my cloak a little, gesturing for me to look up.

"Do you see it? The Broken Tower?" he asked, pointing to a tall, foreboding structure in the distance. It looked like an arrow lodged in the corpse that was the city. Black, dead vines trailed up its sides, and the top part of the tower, where the conical roof should have been, had caved in and rotted. It was difficult for me to believe that I had spent my whole life in such a terrible looking place.

"I'm glad I'm not going back," I said, pulling my hood back over my eyes so that I could block the sight away. A little further in the distance, Arden and Brynjar were waiting for us.

"Did you see where I found you?" she asked.

"You were very brave to go inside Arden. It looks like an awful place."

"Everyone says it's full of monsters and ghosts, so when I went inside and found you I was really afraid. I'm sorry I ran away like that," she said, sounding truly apologetic.

"I don't blame you Arden, and I've still escaped so there is no harm done," I assured her.

As we walked further and further away from the smithy I wondered how long it would take us to get outside of the city walls. I had seen a lot of them but never where they ended. Suddenly, a strange sound struck my ears. It floated on the air, lilting and magical to my ears before I realized that I was hearing music for the first time. My heart stopped.

"Please wait!" I called out to my companions, and despite my already aching feet I ran towards the source of the noise. I wanted to hear it louder and clearer more than anything. Knight Valiant often sang to his maiden fair, and I wondered what music must have sounded like more times than I could count.

"Stop lass!" I heard Brynjar call out behind me, but his words went unheeded. I knew it was probably a foolish thing to do. I knew nothing of the city, nor where I was going. Still, I couldn't let the chance to experience song for the first time pass me by. Weaving in and out of crowds of sullen, empty looking people I couldn't understand why I was the only one who could appreciate the beautiful sounds I was hearing. Nobody else even stopped to listen as they went about their day with frowns and looks of desperation. I wondered that perhaps if they did stop and listen their moods would lift considerably.

When I finally arrived at the source of the music I saw that it was coming from a man. He was elderly, and dressed in tatters with no shoes on his feet. He looked as dirty as I had been, and his beard, which might have once been considered white was darkened by dust and filth. Yet he sang while he strummed on an instrument, and his voice was clear and beautiful. His words sang of hope and love when it was clear he had neither- a nearly empty bag of coins begging to be filled at his feet. I understood him in that instant, and watched, transfixed by his performance until I felt a strong hand on my shoulder.

"What were you thinking?" Nero demanded, and I could understand why he was upset this time. Brynjar and Arden were not far behind. Still, none of them were remarking on the beautiful songs the man was singing, and I wondered what on earth could have been wrong with them.

"Don't you hear him singing? How can you not want to stop everything to listen? I've never heard anything so beautiful in my whole life."

"It's only singing Elora," Arden said, but she didn't understand. It must have been difficult to appreciate beauty when you experienced it all the time. I almost pitied them for being unable to hear the man's song like I could.

"We need to leave," Brynjar whispered, but I was so reluctant to go that it was as if my feet had rooted to the ground like a tree.

I didn't even notice the soldiers approach.

Dressed in knight's mail and wearing golden cloaks with crowns embroidered on the backs, it was clear that they were meant to represent royalty- my mother most likely.

"Enough of your clamoring old man! There'll be no begging here today," one of the guards said, his voice gruff and smoky.

"I meant no offense good sirs," the old man said, his speaking voice far less rich than his singing one had been.

"But offence has been taken," the other guard said with a laugh, and he kicked the bag of collected coins out into the street. The old man fell to his knees in an effort to pick them up while the guards continued kicking them around as they laughed- like it was some kind of joke. My stomach felt sick at the scene, and against my better judgement I called out, almost like I had yesterday. It was as if I hadn't learned my lesson the first time, but I couldn't sit silent and do nothing like everyone else who was watching- my companions included.

"Leave him alone!" I shouted. Nero hissed at me to shut my mouth, but I couldn't now. The old man looked up at me, and I wished I was as strong as Knight Valiant in that moment. Perhaps then I could have defeated the guards, but as I was now I was useless and I only too late acknowledged the fact.

"Well look at what we got here, a maiden who wants to be a hero? What will you give me if I do, eh wench?" One of them asked me, I could just make out a yellow smile through my hood.

"I have nothing to give you, but neither does he. You should find someone else to harass," I insisted.

"I don't know, your cloak is awfully nice. I'd be worth a pretty penny I think," the first guard said.

"Might be my wife would like something so fine," the second one continued, but I gripped it closer to me. It had been Nero's mother's cloak, and it wasn't mine to give away or bargain, no matter what the price.

"You can't have it." I stated firmly, and when I looked away I saw with relief that the old man had managed to escape. Now, I only need worry about myself.

"How about I just take it from you then?" the first guard said. I was struck with an idea. It was a foolish one, to be sure, but it was the only one I had that could avoid getting Arden, Brynjar and Nero in trouble as well.

The second guard held my hands tightly against my waist as the first one wrenched the hood from my face. For the first time, I wasn't discouraged to see the horror on the face of someone who looked upon me.

"By the fire, it's a monster!" He shrieked. "The old crone herself's come to take us to the land of the dead."

I smiled in what I hoped would be a menacing way. I didn't know who the crone was, but it was clear that the guards feared her. So to, did the onlookers, since some had fled and others watched with stark still fright.

"You'd better run, or next time you pick on a harmless old man I'll be back," I shouted. The guards turned their heels and did as I'd said.

However, before I had time to celebrate my small victory Brynjar lifted me right off the ground and began to run through the streets, with the siblings in tow. When he thought that all of the onlookers had been avoided he made a dash into a dark alley. Usually, Brynjar's face was full of mirth, but it wasn't now. The joy I'd just felt at helping the old man turned to ash in my throat.

"You could have been killed!" he boomed, though more with worry than anger. Nobody had ever worried for me before, and I wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

"So could have the old man! I couldn't just stand and do nothing like everyone else!" I replied, not sounding as contrite as I probably should have given the circumstances.

"The Queen isn't missing anyone else! If she finds out your gone now we'll never make it to the mountains alive."

"I...I hadn't thought of it that way. I'm sorry," I said, casting my eyes downward. I couldn't look the giant in his eyes, nor could I truly regret what I'd done. Eventually he let me go and began to march onward. Arden followed him in silence after throwing me a glance of pity, which left only Nero still at my side. I was certain he was going to yell at me too, and so I braced myself for a berating that never came.

"I can't tell if you're brave or foolish- maybe both. But I couldn't have done what you did. Someday, I hope that I will have that chance again." he said, before he walked on. As I followed after him I couldn't help but look at him a new light.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven- Scars**

It was apparent that my decision to help the old man was going to make our flight from the city infinitely more difficult almost as soon as we'd tried. The hood of my cloak was securely fastened around me once more, but even so I felt more exposed than I'd ever been. Revealing myself had been a rash decision, truly. I knew that now.

Yet retrospect seemed to be the greatest teacher. I'd never done anything that I'd have cause to regret before, and since I found the feeling to be horrible it was hardly something I cared to experience again. The rumor of the crone in a violet cloak had spread throughout the city in no time, and as we slipped and ducked from alley to alley, I could hear the city folk gossip. Each time I heard it the tale grew more embellished, and the last time I'd overheard it I somehow had managed to use my magic to drag the guards to the underworld alongside me.

The sun had nearly set by the time we escaped, and the only reason we managed to get away was by stealing ourselves away empty barrels of ale that were being moved outside of the city walls. The smell was so strong inside that I wanted to retch, but the darkness was familiar enough- so much so that it was almost comfortable. When the wagon finally stopped and the coast was clear, Brynjar opened the lid of the cask and I could breathe fresh air again.

The pink and orange glow left by the sunset was beautiful, but it was reflected on the desolate, flat ground. A sparse amount of old, hollow trees spotted the distance. Fields that may have once been farmland, now only showed the dead, wilted remains of life. A dusty road stretched towards towering mountains that looked hopelessly far away- their peeks tipped with the ice and snow I'd only ever read about.

"Is that where we're going?" I asked, to no one in particular.

"Aye lass. It's to be quite the trip," Brynjar answered, resting his hand on my shoulder as he tried to offer me some sort of comfort. A warm wind blew suddenly, picking up dust and dead plant life around me.

"Everything is dead," I said, my heart full of despair at the scenery around me.

"How could this have happened?"

Nero stood beside me then, his expression mirroring my own. I was surprised at how upset he looked. I'd have thought he would be far more prepared than I was.

"Have you not seen this place before?" I asked, curious. Arden didn't seem half as disturbed as he did, so she at least was expecting no less of the land around us.

"I have, when my mother was alive and Arden was but a babe in her arms. Everything was green then- green and beautiful. Brynjar told me how bad things had become, but I never left to see for myself."

"Why? Is leaving the city always so difficult?"

"No. If the guards weren't looking for you we'd have had an easier time of it. I just never had a reason to leave until now," he sighed and ran his fingers through his thick hair. Perhaps it was his comment to me after I'd helped the old man, but I was beginning to believe that Nero was a lot more vulnerable than he let on. I had read once, about porcupines- how they were covered in needles that could pierce the skin quite painfully if they were threatened. I thought that Nero must be like a porcupine, though given the barren nature of the land around me I doubted I'd ever see one to be sure.

"Do people often leave to find somewhere better to live?"

"And go where? There's always the mountains, but the people there are strange and foreign. Going to Rudland in the south is possible, though getting there without starving is something only the very rich can afford," Nero answered.

"There aren't much people who are very rich anymore, the Queen herself excluded of course," Brynjar added with a caustic chuckle.

"Will we starve to death?" Arden asked, fear was evident in her voice though she struggled to keep calm.

"Since when have I ever done anything unprepared?" Nero said back to her with a smirk that spoke of confidence I didn't think he really felt. It was still nice that he thought fit to try for Arden's sake- especially after all the trouble he'd given her for freeing me the day before.

The velvet of the cloak was warm- too warm for the weather, and while I wanted to take it off to cool down, I didn't want to leave myself open to scrutiny from my companions. I dreaded the next day however, when the sun would undoubtedly shine more strongly on the dark material and I would probably be left with little other choice but to take it off.

I realized with a sense of sorrow that the mountains were much further away than I'd initially thought, for even after marching on into the night it seemed as if we never got closer. After it had been dark for quite some time, Arden could barely stand anymore. Brynjar took her in his great arms and continued to carry her. It was clear he had some idea of where we were going, though the mountains provided a rather clear indication of where we had to head directionally.

Honestly, I wished that he could carry me, too. My feet ached more than I even thought possible. The exertion from the day before compounded on all the walking I'd done that evening to the point of agony. I refused to complain about it though, since I knew the danger we could be in if we were caught before we were able to reach the mountains. My mind continued to think about my mother, and about what she would do when she learned that I had gone missing.

All sorts of thoughts had crossed my thoughts- the most likely being that she'd hunt me down and force me to return, and the least being she'd simply forget about me and let me go on my way. She must have wanted me for something, and if past precedence provided any indication, it was probably because I'd find some way to increase her power. If she was willing to take the lives of innocent women, putting her own daughter in a tower cell hardly seemed like much of a sacrifice.

If she did come for me, and deep down I knew she would, I was certain that I would be putting Arden, Nero and Brynjar in danger. I held out the hope that whatever mysterious power kept the mountains safe from my mother would keep me safe as well.

"We should stop and rest," Nero said suddenly.

"We haven't enough time for that little lordling, or enough food," Brynjar answered.

"You are made of sterner stuff than us my friend, and I can't expect you to carry Arden any further."

"Perhaps you're right. We'll stop to break our fast, but then we'll need to keep going," the giant insisted. I hoped my relief wasn't completely apparent on my face.

Nudging Arden awake, Brynjar set her down gently while Nero went about getting rations from his bag. Drinking deeply from one of his water skins he handed it to his sister, to Brynjar, and finally to me.

"It's alright. Save the water for yourselves. I'm used to having very little," I said. Quite frankly the thought of consuming anything made me feel a little nauseous.

"Food and water will give you strength, creature. You could barely walk a moment ago," he insisted, shoving the skin into my hand. I followed his advice, though I drank only a little, and quite slowly. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him as he ate. Brynjar had given me some rations as well, what he called dried, salted pork. I found the texture strange, and the taste too unfamiliar to sit well, but I ate it anyway recalling Nero's advice.

It wasn't as if he had been overtly kind to me, and perhaps his concern was more for Arden and Brynjar than myself- still he had noticed the trouble I'd had walking, so I felt a little grateful. I knew that in the way of progress it wasn't much, since he still hadn't stopped calling me creature no matter how many times I'd asked him not to. Still, I would take what little kindness I could find.

Arden came and sat next to me, eating the dried meat greedily. It was almost as if the food was the only thing keeping her going. Her eyes, which were usually so bright and energetic were sunken in with exhaustion.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"I'm fine, I guess," she said. I could tell she was frightened. So were we all, and she was barely more than a child. Sometimes I found myself forgetting that, since she was so much more knowledgeable than I was about the world around me.

"I'm scared," I told her honestly, and she looked back at me with surprise.

"I'm worried that the Queen will come and find me and put me back in that tower forever, and I'm terrified that she might hurt you as well. I don't know anything about what I am or what I must do, so I'm scared about myself, too."

"You're scared of a lot of things," she said.

"Yes, I am. But it's okay to be afraid you know. Everyone feels that way sometimes."

"I bet Knight Valiant was never afraid," she said, a stubborn edge to her voice that made me laugh.

"Even Knight Valiant had things he feared."

"Like what?"

With a smile I moved closer to her, leaning down to begin the tale as usual.

_Once upon a time, in a kingdom so old that you've probably never heard of it, lived a princess more beautiful than a summer's day. She was as kind as she was lovely, and everyone in her little kingdom adored her. They sang songs in her name, and spread rose petals wherever she walked- if only so the ground was worthy enough for her to stand upon it._

_One day, it so happened that Knight Valiant rode by on his white steed and spied the princess while she was feeding a perfect, white swan. His heart was so captivated by her splendor that his body couldn't contain how strong it was beating. Immediately he proclaimed his love for her while bending down on one knee._

_"I haven't any gold or riches to give you fair princess," he said. "I have only my heart and the love it bears you."_

_The princess, who was also very wise, could see Knight Valiant's honor right away and she loved him right back. Yet just as the two were about to share true love's kiss, the beautiful white swan was transformed into a great and terrible dragon that swooped down from the sky and snatched the princess with claws as big as swords. His wings were blacker than even the darkest night, and Knight Valiant watched with horror as the one he loved was carried away._

_It was then that Knight Valiant felt fear for the first time. You see, he had battled scores of monsters without even the slightest bit of terror. It was the thought of loosing the one he loved most in the world that caused him to fear._

I took a breath to pause in my telling, and realized that I had moved about during the story in the same way I had acted it out in the tower so many times before. I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, since both Brynjar and Nero were watching me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Arden however, appeared captivated.

"How does the story end?" she pressed, but I could only shake my head sadly.

"Your grandmother never finished the book, so I don't know. I'd like to think that things worked out for the best though- after all, Knight Valiant clearly loved the princess very much if losing her made him feel fear for the first time."

"He was more scared of that than the dragon?" Arden wondered.

"Oh yes," I answered assuredly. "So you see even someone as brave as Knight Valiant can be afraid. It's not shameful to admit it, as long as we don't let the things that scare us control what we do."

Arden thought on the matter for a time before nodding her head. Apparently she'd reached some internal decision.

"Then to answer your question from before is that I'm not fine- I'm frightened."

"And that's okay." I smiled at the girl, and much to my surprise she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tightly. The strength of her contact made me feel both relieved and shocked at the same time. Even Agatha had never touched me, and while I'd imagined what it must feel like so many times the feeling still took my breath away. She was willingly embracing me, though I had no idea why she'd want to do something like that it still made me feel immeasurably happy.

It seemed that Arden was in better spirits too, and didn't mind when we began to continue our walk onward towards Brynjar's mountain home. The scenery didn't improve. There was still only death and despair everywhere I looked, but my mood felt lighter somehow.

"Sometimes I don't think you're real, creature," Nero said from behind me, almost in disbelief- though I didn't understand why.

"I've told you, I'm not a creature, and I don't know what you mean."

"I sat there and watched my sister suffering and could do nothing for it- and then you go and tell one of your ridiculous stories and all is well."

"My stories aren't ridiculous," I retorted, ignoring the almost compliment he'd given me. I knew that I was being more defensive than his comments warranted- that he wasn't intending to insult me. Yet I couldn't help but hear mockery in his words nonetheless. I felt the newly familiar sensation of anger prickling on my skin and deep in my belly.

"Of course they are. I've never understood how two people can fall in love so quickly in these sorts of tales. How can you judge someone's worth by sight alone?" he reasoned. Although I'd thought the same thing many times before, I laughed aloud at the parallels he'd so clearly drawn between Knight Valiant's story and our own. I didn't know I'd have a temper, and I'd no idea how to quench it either- though I was fairly certain it was too late since his words had struck a chord within me.

"You of all people would ask me that question? Isn't that exactly what you've done with me? You decided the minute you saw me that I could be nothing short of a monster, but I have never harmed you or spoken against you. At least Knight Valiant and the princess found love at first sight instead of the hatred you feel for me."

I hadn't intended on sounding so condescending, but his behavior had hurtful and to protect myself from feeling so helpless again I'd used anger as my shield.

"You shouldn't take offence, I'm like that with everyone I meet," he attempted to say, though by way of apology it wasn't enough to sate me.

"Perhaps that's your problem," I chided back, thankful that Brynjar and Arden were engaged in their own conversation and couldn't overhear us.

"Look, I don't trust very easily, and you were locked in a tower prison. For all I know you were put there for a terrible crime!"

"But I wasn't! Unless you count the crime of being born, although I certainly don't."

"You could be lying," he countered, getting defensive himself now.

"Yes, I could. But I'm not. What could I gain by lying to you? I didn't ask for any of this!" I said, unable to keep the emotion out of my voice- though whether I was feeling anger, hate, desperation or fear I didn't know.

"When we get to the mountains we'll discover the real reason why you were locked in that tower, and this act of yours will come to a quick end I'm sure."

"What happened to you, to make you so terrible?"

I couldn't believe that I had softened towards him for even a moment. He would never trust me or accept me, and so I decided then and there that I was no longer going to try and earn his approval. Nero needed far more growing than I did, and learning to have faith in others would be a big first step. It was obvious that he'd only ever relied on himself, and now I had to rely on him too. I wasn't naive enough to think I'd survive in this wasteland without him, but I was sorely tempted to try.

He grabbed my arm as I tried to march away towards Arden and Brynjar.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. Unlacing the strings that held his tunic together at the top, he pulled the material apart to reveal something I hadn't expected to see there.

For a moment, I didn't understand what he was trying to show me, and while it was certainly gruesome it took me a moment to register what I was seeing.

Cut across the flesh of his chest was a scar. Starting at his heart, it weaved its way in disorganized swirls around his entire torso- as if whomever had given it to him wasn't sure where it would have hurt him the most.

I had no words, I could only mumble unintelligible pity and apologies. True, perhaps Nero had been unkind, but no one deserved to be treated so terribly.

"You're full of lessons Elora, and I'm grateful for your help with my sister. But this time, I have a lesson for you to learn," he said, though not in anger any longer. It was almost as if he pitied me and my ignorance.

"Give your trust away too easily, and scars are all you will be left with."

**A/N: **So I've put this at the end to avoid spoiling myself. First of all, a giant Brynjar sized thank you to everyone who reviewed. Hearing about your reactions to what I've written is more valuable than anything, and it makes continuing both easy and enjoyable because I know that someone out there actually cares about what I'm doing. I hope I won't let you down!

That being said I am loving all of the comments about Nero. Honestly, he's the hardest character I've ever written, and it's nice to see that people remain unsure what to think about him. Every time I write a story, I do so with a goal in mind. This time, it was to work on character development, so my protagonists aren't so black and white. I hope you will bear with both Elora and him on their journeys, because even though they start off vastly different, now that they've intersected who knows what shenanigans will happen! (Well I do... but I'm not telling.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight- Riders**

I made it a point to avoid looking at Nero. Every time I did my mind and heart grew so flush with different emotions that I wasn't sure what to do with myself. Pity, anger, desperation, remorse- they were all unpleasant feelings, and try as I might to associate a pleasant emotion with him, I couldn't do it. Instead, it was far easier to pretend that he didn't exist. At least that way my heart could be at peace.

I walked, instead, with Arden, telling stories and chatting while the men blazed the trail ahead. Yet as soon as they'd grown far enough in front of us she latched onto my arm and pulled me down towards her.

"Did he show you?" she whispered quietly.

"Did who show me what?" I asked a little confused. Arden looked annoyed at my lack of comprehension for a moment, her blue eyes narrowing while her eyebrow twitched.

"Nero. His scars?" she pressed further, and I had to admit I was a little shocked that she'd bring them up.

"What do you know about them?" I wondered.

"Only what I've learned by listening. He won't tell how he got them. Even Brynjar doesn't know the real reason. Every time I ask my brother about them he gets angry and tells me to mind my business."

"He shouldn't do that. You're only asking because you love him."

"Of course I know that," the girl chided me as if I had said something foolish. "It's just I think that he forgets how to love somebody back. I remember when I was little he'd play with me and hug me all the time. Even though we had to leave our home behind, there were so many times when he was happy," she sighed as she watched him walk ahead of her.

"Now all I see of him is his back while he gets further and further away from me."

Arden looked like she might cry then, her big eyes filling with tears until she wiped them away abruptly. She was trying to be strong for him, and for me, but I thought her heart was too young to bear so many burdens. Perhaps she was right, and perhaps Nero didn't know how to love- but then again he wasn't the only one. I knew nothing about such a thing either.

I thought then, how I would have advised myself if I had those kind of thoughts in my tower. With no one to council me I was left to do so on my own, though while it often proved a stimulating exercise for my mind, I never knew if I was capable of coming up with wise solutions. Still, it was clear Arden wanted to hear something from me, and I knew I must speak some words of comfort at least.

"If that's true, and your brother really doesn't know how to love anymore, then I think the best thing you can do is show him you love him even more strongly than you do now. Maybe it might hurt a little, to give love more than you receive it- I don't know. But what I do know is that too much love can't hurt a person, while not enough can make them like me."

"But I think you're wonderful," she answered honestly, and I couldn't help but grin at her- teeth and all.

"Thank you, but I'm more trouble than I'm worth, I think. Why don't you go try talking to him?" I asked her, though she threw me a panicked expression.

"I couldn't, he's busy," she said quietly. It did appear that he was deep in conversation with Brynjar, but it was a long journey and the two of them could continue at anytime. Arden's need was greater, and so I rushed up to where they were walking.

"Brynjar, if you don't mind I've some questions about where we're going," I said, keeping my gaze distinctly away from Nero. The giant's bushy eyebrows raised in an unspoken question, like he could see right through me. I had a feeling that despite his looks, Brynjar was more astute than he seemed.

"So be it lass. Nero, keep an eye or your sister. She's looking a mite tired don't you think?" he suggested, and whether it was to be helpful, obedient, or just to get away from me, Nero did as Brynjar said.

"You're about as subtle as a blade, lass," he laughed, the sound deep and warm.

"To be fair, I really do have questions for you," I answered with a smile. He patted me on the back heartily.

"What do you wish to know?" he wondered.

"You said that people in the mountains have magic. Are they like me?" I wondered. Brynjar frowned at that, his brow crinkling in thought.

"Not like you, no. But every mountain tribe has Bone Women. It's said that the Crone herself chooses them when they're still in the womb, and gives them the gift of second sight. They can see the past and the present, even what is still to come."

I'd only recently learned who the Crone was. Ever since the soldiers in the city had called me that, I'd been curious, so I asked Arden the night before. It was her turn to tell a story, after all.

As she told it, the Crone was the guardian of fate. It was she who decided on when you were born, when you died and everything in between. It was no wonder the guards had been so frightened of me, since the way Arden had told it, the Crone was not a merciful being. She took the lives of the elderly and children, of men and mothers- leaving only grief in her wake. Everything bad that ever happened could be blamed on the Crone, or so Arden told it. The good things in life were only passing fancies that could be taken away in a second.

I didn't know if I believed in the Crone or fate, but if they did exist then they were certainly things that had never been very kind to me. If I ever met her, in this life or the next, I didn't think I'd have anything pleasant to say.

"I can't do anything like that, though I wish I could," I said. If I had this second sight, undoubtedly I'd know of it. Perhaps then everything I encountered outside of my tower would be less of a surprise, and I found the idea of such a gift to be enviable.

"Being a Bone Woman is not a fate you'd desire lass. They're given the second sight, it's true, but as they hone their magical sight, their own vision is taken from them," he said, a little sadly.

"Then they are more like me than I thought. It seems magic must always have a cost," I mused, and Brynjar seemed to agree.

The conversation had grown heavy, and in an attempt to lighten things up I asked a different question.

"How long until we arrive?"

"On foot, perhaps two days more. What I wouldn't give for some horses though. They'd cut the journey in half."

Brynjar quickly learned to watch his tongue, for not long after he'd spoken those words, than the thundering of hooves pounded quickly on the dirt ground. Nero grabbed Arden's hand and ran towards us, so we all stood together in solidarity.

"Are they from the city?" Brynjar said, though none of us would have any idea how to answer him.

"What do we do?" Arden said, frightened again.

"If anyone asks we're from the mountains looking for some food and warmth. Since we haven't found the food we're returning home. Keep walking like nothing's amiss," Nero decided. As a story it wasn't much, but it was all we had and so we did as he said.

I pulled my cloak about my face, in case I was recognized, and when the riders finally arrived I looked pointedly at my feet.

"What have we here?" a deep, male voice asked. He appeared to be the leader of the group of 6, though they weren't dressed in the uniforms of soldiers. Instead, their clothing was rough spun and cut off at the arms and legs to keep them cool.

"I'm Brynjar son of Bryn of the mountain tribes. I travel with my son, his wife and my daughter back home."

"You being from the mountains I can believe, but the boy's too pretty to be a winter child, and that cloak is too fine for the cold. You'd not mind taking it off lady, would you?" the voice asked. I trembled a little in fear, until I felt Nero grab my hand tightly just as he had with his sister.

"The sun burned her skin, we found the cloak on a dead traveler to the east," he said, meeting the gaze of the man who questioned us. I didn't dare try the Crone trick again, not after the trouble it had caused us last time. It seemed as though I wouldn't get away without showing my face anyway.

"It's alright," Nero whispered. "We haven't a choice." I nodded a little reluctantly, and lifted the hood off of my face. At first, men around me were shocked at what they saw. The shock I was accustomed to- but after they'd taken a good look at me they laughed, the sound of it stung my ears.

"Your wife is a beauty for truth!" the leader said between spasms. He was a big man, though not nearly so big as Brynjar, with a russet beard and laughing green eyes. In another situation, I thought that perhaps he would have been friendly.

Nero said nothing, he only glared at the men, as if daring them to do say something more about it. It was clear to me that these men were not looking for us, for if they were my appearance would have spurred them in a completely different direction.

"I am Jolf, son of Torvar of the mountain tribes, and I would know what you are doing here."

Brynjar perked up at the news.

"Torvar Beartooth? I know him well! Tell me, does he still live?"

"Aye he lives, and he's leading our people the best he can- though I can't say I've heard your name from his lips."

Brynjar chuckled a little.

"Doubtless he still bears me a grudge, but I would see him if I could. I've business to discuss ."

"And what business is that, Brynjar son of Bryn?" Jolf asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"My own," Brynjar replied gruffly, and I was grateful he didn't mention anything further about me. All the other men were still staring and I had no desire to be made into even more of a curiosity. The two men stared each other down, Jolf from astride his horse and Brynjar from the ground. Neither gave way to the other, and when it appeared as if Jolf would simply choose to leave us be, he clapped his hands.

"Lads, share your mounts! We'll bring these travelers to my father and see what he has to say," Jolf said with confidence.

"The lady rides with me," he laughed then, and offered me his hand to pull me up on his horse- a great, brown beast that was far thicker in girth than the ones I'd seen in the city. To take his hand however, I would have to let go of Nero's, a prospect which I might have begged for before. Yet the warmth of the contact soothed my nerves a great deal, and I was loathe to let go despite the fact the hand belonged to someone I didn't like.

Tentatively I reached for Jolf and he seemed to have no trouble pulling me up behind him. Once everyone had mounted we were off and running. The feeling of the beast beneath me was terrifying, for Jolf rode without a saddle and I found myself bouncing up and down with the horse's strides. Perhaps if I had been strapped to the beast the feeling might have been freeing, for the wind on my face provided cool comfort from the sun, and I was moving faster than I had ever gone in my life. Still, I was uncomfortable putting my arms around Jolf for support, but if I didn't I was certain that I would have fallen and gravely injured myself.

We rode for what felt like ages as I held on for dear life, and when the horses finally stopped I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. We still hadn't reached the mountains, but instead, I found myself looking at what appeared to be an camp or outpost of some kind. Crude tents had been hastily fashioned from animal hide and bone, and in the center of their circle was a cooking fire. What once must have been an animal of some sort was roasting over the spit, and I wondered where they'd managed to hunt in a place as desolate as this. I figured they must have brought it from wherever they came from.

Sitting on a dead tree stump near the fire sat a man who resembled Jolf a great deal, and I knew he must have been his father. Almost gracefully, Jolf dismounted, offering me his hand once again so that I'd be able to get down. My companions and I were then paraded in front of the man, who was called Torvar.

He looked us all over, and to my surprise and delight his eyes lingered very little on me. Instead, the man took one look at Brynjar, and without any warning I watched as his hand curled into a fist and he punched him squarely in the jaw. Brynjar, being as large as he was, barely flinched at the contact, he only nodded for a moment before speaking.

"Have you got that out of your system then Beartooth?" he asked, a little apprehensively.

"I've been waiting a good many years to give you that punch Brynjar," Torvar replied in a voice that was as rough as the sand we'd ridden through to get here.

"Aye, so you have. But think of it this way my friend, if I wouldn't have left you'd never have had the chance to take to leadership so well," Brynjar said with a reserved smile as he gauged his old friend's reaction. The two stared each other down- a habit that I thought must have been common in the mountains, until Torvar began to laugh so hard that he had to hold his sides to keep from keeling over. Brynjar laughed too, until the two of them began to clap each other on their backs to steady themselves. My companions and I regarded the exchange with wonder. It was clear to me that people from the mountain tribes did not behave like the men from the city.

"You've brought me quite a collection of fresh meat old friend," Torvar said, gesturing to us haphazardly while he got to his feet.

"I am called Torvar, son of Rodgut of the mountain tribes. You keep odd company for people from the city. My old friend must be quite the giant there," he said.

"Brynjar saved my life," Nero answered assuredly. "Without him I'd be dead- a truer friend I've never had."

Brynjar grunted in approval while Torvar examined Nero thoroughly.

"This one speaks like a pretty little lord Brynjar. What have you gotten yourself mixed up in?"

"Quite a mess I think, we've most like got city guards after us. We're to bring the lass here to the Bone Women." Brynjar answered. For the first time, Torvar saw fit to examine me. His face was narrow, and his nose shaped like the beak of a bird with a scar that ran its length. Still, I couldn't help but think that he looked very wise, and hoped he could help me somehow.

"Quite a curious one she is," Torvar remarked after some time. "I think the Bone Women would wish to see her, indeed."

Torvar stepped back and gave a command to his son, who shouted out for all the camp to hear.

"We make for home men, and quick about it! This one's to see the Bone Women!"

**A/N:** Well, here's the next installment in Withered. Seriously, you all are the sweetest and most encouraging readers ever. I nearly cry every time I get a review- I'm not kidding. I also read them about a million times while I'm writing as some sort of inspiration.

As usual, I am always looking for songs to inspire me while writing, if anyone has an idea, please let me know! If you've read my profile, you'd probably know that I'm an English Teacher in South Korea (this does not mean I'm good at grammar or spelling). On Friday, I showed my kids a clip from Hercules during lunchtime, and listened to the song Go the Distance.

I nearly cried in my class because I thought of Elora the whole time- I'm a sap, I know. Anyway, since I couldn't find a decent female version of it I randomly made my own, though I don't have any decent recording materials and claim no vocal prowess- especially given what living in Korea has done to my sinuses. I've never really done this before, but I feel really attached to this character and this is what happens. There's a link on my profile that may or may not work if you want to listen to me embarrass myself- oh well. Elora's worth it (hides head in shame).


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Happy Birthday to me! As my gift to you, here is the longest chapter I have ever written for your reading pleasure. More comments at the end.**

Chapter Nine- Blood and Bone

Though the mountains looked imposing in the distance, close up, it was clear that they were nothing more than jagged rocks and stones. Sweet smelling trees jutted out from the ground at strange angles while they stretched to find the sun. Here, further away from where my mother ruled, the signs of life were slowly beginning to appear, and while not as lush and green as I'd always thought it would be it was a definite improvement to where we'd come from. I wondered if for some reason, whatever magic the Bone Women possessed had allowed this place to retain some of its vivacity.

We climbed and climbed, until the horses could go no further. Instead, they were left in the care of a rather ruddy-looking stableman who clearly belonged to the mountain tribe. The remainder of the journey we completed on foot, legs so unsteady that Brynjar often had to carry Arden on his back while Nero made the trek behind me in case I fell. Torvar and his men on the other hand, had little trouble, and while the rest of us panted to catch our breaths the mountain men continued to walk onward without any signs of slowing down. Both Brynjar and Nero were armed, in case we encountered any creature in the wild, though luckily neither had to unsheathe the weapons they had been given.

The further we ascended the cooler it became, the wind caught between the mountains howling down and carrying the slight dust of snow with it. I found myself immensely grateful for the violet cloak to keep me warm, while I marveled at the white flecks dancing through the sky- the moonlight on them making them look like falling stars in the night.

I stopped for a moment and held out my hand, forcing my thoughts away from the disfigurement I saw there and focusing instead on the delicate snowflake. I watched with curiosity as it melted against my warmth, and I couldn't help but feel a little pleased despite the sadness of its demise. It meant I was as warm-blooded as everyone else, and it was one more commonality I could draw between myself and the others.

I almost didn't realize when we arrived at the mountain tribe settlement. It was dark, and the tents that they'd fashioned were made of light-skinned animal hide that blended with the snow and hills. What drew my attention first was the smell of fire and cooked meat, and my stomach rumbled at the thought of food.

Torvar called out a name in his booming voice.

"Hedda, I've brought you a present!"

I could hear a clamor from inside one of the larger tents. Its peak was tipped with the ivory antlers of a great stag and a shaggy, fur mantle was draped over the entrance. A woman rushed out, almost as wide as she was tall. Her hair was deep brown and so twisted it practically stood on end, but her eyes were soft and kind- almost like I'd always imagined a mother's to be.

"Torvar, you're late!" she barked at him while rushing over to Jolf, 4 children of varying ages at her heels.

"Your father's kept you away too long my son," she said, soothing Jolf''s hair while the other children rushed towards Torvar, who must have been their father. Jolf looked a little embarrassed at the attention she was giving him, but my heart warmed at the sight of a mother's love.

"And what's this present you've gone and shouted about," the woman, who must have been named Hedda said, though she spotted Brynjar before the question needed to be answered. She barreled towards him before hitting him on the side, almost in the same place her husband had.

"Crone take you Brynjar! A bear has more sense than you have, running off without a word!" she chastised, and Brynjar simply laughed with mirth.

"Hedda, you've haven't changed a lick," he insisted, and the woman laughed as well.

"Nonsense, my girth's more than doubled. Five children does that to a woman," she answered. Arden threw Nero and I a look of confusion and almost simultaneously we shrugged in return. He must have felt like just as much of an intruder on the scene as I did.

It wasn't long however, before Hedda noticed us standing there, and her eyebrows peaked in curiosity. While Brynjar offered his introductions I was careful to draw the hood of my cloak over my face so that she couldn't see. Here was a woman that was strong and beautiful in her motherhood, and compared to her I felt incredibly insecure.

"Why've you brought them city-folk here?" she wondered. It was clear that people from the city didn't often make the trip to the mountains, and I could understand why it might be a cause for alarm.

"We've come seeking the Bone Women's council," Brynjar said, and Hedda nodded as if that explained everything. And perhaps it did. I knew little of my own culture let alone that of the mountain tribes, though it seemed as if a visit to the Bone Women was explanation enough to grant safe passage through their lands.

Hedda looked up at the moon, swollen and full in the sky.

"If you would seek them, tonight is the time to do so- when Mother Moon is at her fullest their sight is strong," she mused, and Torvar nodded his agreement as he tried to wrangle the children climbing up his thick limbs.

"Tonight?" I whispered, while Brynjar and Torvar discussed the details of the visit. I had thought I'd have at least a little time to prepare myself for what was to come. I was reluctant to rush towards the truth. Arden moved over to me and took my hand, her warmth spreading through me like fire and easing my fear. A great number of people had gathered now, and I could feel their eyes on me. Their whispers were carried by the wind to my ears and I felt like sinking into the ground if only to stop them.

"Better to know the truth now then to wait." Nero said, and I admitted reluctantly that he was probably right. If I didn't meet with them that night I would only be prolonging the inevitable. I looked at him then, a feat which I'd been avoiding lately. He appeared on edge, his blue eyes were a little narrowed as he made to stand in front of me, almost as if he was shielding me from the onlookers in the same way he'd tried to help me when Jolf had told me to remove my hood earlier.

"I know I ought to go, but I- I am afraid," I said to him, my gaze reaching his beneath the hood of the cloak. Nero looked at Arden and then back at me while he decided how to respond to my words. At first, I thought he'd chastise me for my weakness and I braced myself for words that never came. Instead, it was Arden who spoke.

"When our parents died, and Nero and I were left alone, I told my grandmother I was afraid, and that it was too difficult to go on without them. She told me something then, something I've since forgotten. Meeting you reminded me of her words back then."

"What did she say?" I urged, curious about Agatha's wisdom.

"She told me fear is what makes us strong. If we never have the chance to fear, then we will never have the chance to grow to overcome it."

I smiled at her then, Agatha's wisdom shining through in the child's small voice. Nero smiled too, almost as if Arden had reminded him of something long forgotten, but before we could dwell on the matter any further Brynjar called us over.

"The Bone Women tent is up on that ledge there. We can go with you lass, but it's up to you to enter the tent on your own," he said, and taking a deep breath I gripped Arden's hand while I nodded resolutely. For good or ill I would learn what wisdom they had to share with me.

I was suddenly glad I hadn't eaten anything, for my stomach was so in shambles that I might have been sick as I climbed a little further up the mountain pass. Nobody spoke, as if to do so would ruin the sanctity of the moment, though I wished for some comforting words to help me face the situation.

The Bone Women's tent was larger than the ones further downhill, and while it was made of the same, white hide it was covered in red drawings and patterns that were matted on the skin like blood, though I hoped it wasn't. Instead of branches, the tent was slung across what appeared to be an enormous rib cage of some unknown creature, long dead. Images of stars and the moon and all sorts of animal shapes I didn't recognize sloped towards the entrance of the tent. The doorway was strung with more bones of the dead, and they looked alarmingly human.

I could detect no sign of life from within, and there was no smoke from any fire, nor smell of food. I looked back at my companions through my hood.

"Good luck," Arden said, realizing that no words were appropriate given the situation. Nero stared at me for a long while, an unknown expression written across his face. He nodded at me solemnly before placing a hand on my shoulder. I regarded it for a moment, surprised at the intimacy I didn't think him capable of before I turned around to enter the tent.

Pushing back the bones, I entered the tent. They made a clacking sound as they banged against one another. If anyone was inside, they'd know I was coming.

As soon as I entered, my heart froze.

Instead of a tent, I was in a place that was all too familiar. The blackness of the walls, the smell and the feeling of cold stone beneath me was all my tower. Frightened I turned around hoping to leave the way I'd come, but the entrance was gone and all I could feel were the scratches I'd come to memorize in the stone walls. I continued to feel around, hoping this was some sort of trick and that in a moment I'd realize that I was only dreaming. Yet the more I searched the more hopeless I became until I began to think that perhaps my life outside that tower was the true dream, and I'd never left at all.

I fell to my knees and knocked against the stone, wailing and crying to be let out until my hands and throat were raw and I couldn't anymore. I sat there, weeping silent tears until I heard the tell tale sound of footsteps on the stairs below me. I crawled to the back of the tower cell, covering myself with my arms to protect me from whoever was coming.

As the door creaked open I saw who I most feared- my mother, in all her terrifying beauty. At her feet were two small girls, my sisters, and in her arm was an odd bundle.

"I'm sorry mother, forgive me, I never should have left!" I pleaded with her, although she never heard me. Instead, I realized that I was invisible to her and my sisters both. I watched as my mother dropped the bundle on the stone floor without care, and when the blankets swaddling it were pushed back I saw a tiny, shriveled creature inside. I knew then that what I was seeing was myself, long ago, and it was strange to look upon. I couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, but I didn't cry, I only stared at her with my strange, violet eyes and it was clearly making her uncomfortable.

"This creature will live in this tower. You must never come here girls, for this thing will bring nothing but our deaths," she instructed firmly, and my sisters nodded in unison.

"Yes mother," the chimed, though the elder continued.

"But if it is so dangerous why don't you simply kill it?" she wondered such harsh words sounded even worse in her small voice. The Queen looked at the child in annoyance.

"I created this monster to rule over this land, but instead, it rules over me. I used so much of my power creating it that now we are bound together. It was what I wanted, what I begged the darkness for- a ruler bound to me forever. What I got was this disgusting mockery of my wish," she said. I thought to Hedda, and how she'd stroked her son's hair before I looked down at myself, too-skinny arms flailing and reaching out for love I knew I'd never find.

Once my mother had left, I knelt beside my infant-self and wept. I wanted to pull the shriveled thing into my arms even though I knew I couldn't. I could still hear my mother's voice echoing in the cell.

"Creature, monster," it whispered, until it was joined by Arden and Nero and grew so loud it was deafening.

"Be brave little one," I encouraged through my tears, covering her small ears though I knew it wouldn't do much good. "Don't lose hope and I promise I won't either," I whispered, though I didn't know how much longer I could follow my own advice.

For a moment, it almost seemed like the baby's eyes could see me, before I felt the odd sensation of being swept away to a place I didn't recognize. Corridors made of white marble stretched as far as my eyes could see, people bustling back and forth like they were doing something very important. Curiously, I followed one of the servant girls until I arrived in a much larger room. It might have been beautiful once, but now the marble columns were laced with dead vines and the fountains were dried up and crusted with brown dust. At the end of the room I saw The Queen again, just as beautiful as she had been in my last vision. She was reading a missive that a Queen's Guard had given her, her beautiful eyes getting wider and wider until she ripped the paper violently and let loose a terrible scream.

"Where is it!" she demanded of the guard, though he only regarded the floor.

"I do not know Your Grace," he stammered in reply.

"It's a locked tower! No one has the key but myself! Find it! Find the monster! FIND IT NOW!" she screeched, and the guard ran from the throne room like the Crone herself was after him. Something deep inside of me knew I was seeing the present, and that my mother had undoubtedly discovered my disappearance. The world shifted again, and this time, I was in an elaborate bed chamber. Gold ornamentation and red velvet surrounded me while I looked in a gilded mirror, studded with rubies and diamonds.

I saw my reflection and examined myself again, realizing for the hundredth time that I was hideous, but the more I looked, the more I saw it start to change. My hair, grey and thin, turned black and healthy, flowing down my back like a raven's wing. My skin turned pink and my cheeks flushed while my eyes became well-formed to my face, violet irises staring back at my reflection in astonishment. My lips were full and red, my teeth like white pearls, my body was perfectly shaped. I was beautiful, and my heart ached with longing.

"You can look like this forever," my mother's voice whispered to me, and I spun around to face her, the unfamiliar feeling of hair running against my back as I moved. She was golden like the sun, whereas I was pale as the moon. Both of us equally stunning, and neither outshining the other we stood in opposition of one another.

She came towards me then, her arms wrapping around my shoulders in a cold embrace.

"You can be beautiful forever Elora- a true princess."

The thought was sobering. It was what I'd always wished for after all. I'd wanted to be like a princess from my stories, with a noble knight like Valiant to love me and fight for my honor. I'd wanted to live a life as blessed as those I'd read about so often.

"How?" I asked my mother's shade, and she smiled as she released me.

"You and I are not so different child," she cooed, holding out her hand. Inside the palm of it, dust appeared, rising until it formed Arden's shape.

"It's not so very hard, to take their lives. All you need to do is give them one, little kiss," she said, reaching her lips out to the figure in her hand. I watched as the image of Arden wrinkled and turned to dust again before my mother let it drip from her fingers like a waterfall.

"You have more power than either of your sisters. Given training you could even surpass me. We could rule this place together as we were always meant to do," she whispered, turning me around to face my reflection again.

I wanted it so badly it felt like my heart would burst. I reached my hands up to feel the skin of my face, smooth and without blemishes.

"What about love? Can I have that, too?" .

"Any lover you desire will be yours, they will worship the ground you walk on."

I couldn't help but wonder what Nero would think if he saw me this way. I could hardly be called a monster with such an appearance, and in my mind's eye I imagined him taking my hand and placing a kiss on top of it.

But thinking of Nero made made me recall his words from before

"Give your trust away too easily, and scars are all you'll be left with," he'd said, and in a rush of clarity the reality of what I was seeing came back to me. I pushed my mother's shade as far away from me as I could and she shrieked in terrible anger- her beautiful face contorted with rage. Still, I would not give in to the temptation she'd offered.

"You are a liar! If you truly wanted me by your side you never would have locked me in that tower to begin with! You're afraid of me because of what I can do to you, and so I won't be afraid of you any longer!" I yelled, and she screamed again, lunging towards me. I braced myself with my arms, but before she could land a blow the image of the bedroom around me faded to reveal the inside of the Bone Women's tent and the faces of three, nearly identical old women. Their eyes as unseeing as Agatha's had been, they regarded me with an aura of respect while they grinned toothlessly.

"You're a wise lass," the first said. She had the most hair of the three, and was clothed in a cloth dress trimmed in black fur. Like the other women, she was bald, but covered in jewelry made of bones of many shapes and sizes.

"What did you show me?" I asked.

"Your past," the first said.

"The present," said the next,

"And the future you've denied," echoed the last. The three women seemed to exist in perfect harmony, and even without sight I noticed how they mirrored one another.

"What will my future bring then?" I wondered.

"Time is a tricky thing," the first said, plucking a hair from my head and placing it in a cup of water on a small, wooden table as surely as if she could see them there.

"Imagine yourself as this hair, flowing down a river. At first, perhaps you'll continue on in the same direction, but you'll encounter a storm, a flood, a fish who mistakes you as his dinner. All those things can cause you to shift your direction. That is to say, any decision you make, or the decisions of those you love can change the entire course of your future."

"Perhaps that's true, but if you cannot tell me what the future holds, can you at least tell me what I am?"

"You are Elora, daughter of the King and Queen of the lands below," the second answered, and I couldn't help but sigh.

"I know that much, what I don't know is why I was born a monster."

"You weren't born a monster," the third Bone Woman said, almost chiding me for my ignorance.

"You were made a monster- by powers stronger and darker than any we possess. Powers forged in greed and tempered by hate- unnatural and terrible."

"Why?" I managed to choke out. I had imagined the reason, but it still hurt to hear it aloud.

"You heard in the vision, were you not paying attention to the gift Mother Moon showed you?" the third Bone Woman said.

"Your mother wished for an heir, but the Crone, who governs all fate, refused to grant her the son she needed. The Queen is powerful yes, but not more so than fate, and so you were born as a perversion to her desires. An heir to the throne you were, but as twisted on the outside as she is on the inside- but full of a light she'd never posses. She knew right away that you could be her undoing- bringing life instead of the death she needs to keep herself young and beautiful."

"So I can defeat my mother then?"

"Yes," the three said in unison.

"Please tell me how," I urged. "I'll do anything to stop her from hurting anyone else!"

"It is a simple solution if you are truly willing to do anything," the second woman said.

"Life cannot exist without death- nor death without life," the first continued.

"Your mother creates life for herself with the death of others. You are her opposite, tied to her through her own dark magic."

"I don't understand," I said, wishing that their mutterings made any sort of sense to me at all. I felt so frustrated and wished that they would just speak plainly.

"You create life in others, but the cost for using such a power is your eventual death. A high price to pay, but it is the reason she's kept you alive all these years, and out of harm's way," the third woman said, and all at once I was struck with a horrible understanding.

"So if she is death and I'm life and neither of us can live without the other, what happens if one of us were to die?" I questioned, afraid at what the answer would be. The three women were silent, as if waiting for me to arrive at the conclusion myself.

"We both die then," I concluded, my heart like a pit in my chest.

When the Bone Women nodded their agreement to my words I didn't stay in their tent any longer. Running as fast as I could, I dashed through the entrance, bones shuffling against each other as I passed. I ran and ran, until I could barely breathe and my legs felt as heavy as stone. I collapsed to the ground and dug my hands into the dirt, screaming at the unfairness of the universe. If there really fate, how could it be so cruel?

"Was I born only to die? Is that the only reason I was put on this world?" I shouted at the wind, hoping it would carry my words to wherever the Crone was rotting.

"How can you ask me to choose between myself and everyone else! It's not fair! I can't choose to live because I'd be sentencing countless others to their deaths. And yet why should they get to live when I've never had the chance!" I demanded of no one.

Such selfish thoughts were like a poison in my veins, and yet I couldn't help but think them. I pounded against the ground, again and again until I could feel my fists start to scratch and bleed.

"Elora stop it!" I heard Nero yell from behind me, and when I ignored him he grabbed my hands tightly. I struggled against him kicking and pulling away.

"Why do you care what happens to me? You know now don't you, who my mother is? If you want to kill her then you have your chance. All you have to do is run me through with that sword. I won't even fight back because no matter what I want for myself I know that dying is the only thing I'm good for!" I shouted at him.

It was clear he'd overheard at least part of what had happened inside the tent, since the knowledge of who my mother was and how she could be killed didn't seem like a surprise. I'd wondered if perhaps the Bone Women had related what they'd learned to their chief after I'd run off. It seemed fairly likely, since while it seemed like they were the sort to keep secrets, my secret bore the fate of the land on its back, and was not to be taken lightly.

If anyone should kill me, it should have been Nero. My mother had killed his own, so it seemed like a perverted sense of the justice he was after. I knelt down in front of him and waited for what felt like eternity. My head was bowed so low the the ground I could practically taste the dirt while I awaited the blow of his sword, and he didn't say a word. I wondered if he was so angry with me for keeping who I was a secret that he thought me even more disgusting than he had before. Good then, it would make it easy to strike me down.

When I heard the sound of his sword unsheathe from the scabbard I contemplated my death.

At first, I thought that the knowledge of dying to save so many would provide me with some sort of deep, internal peace- that perhaps I'd be able to leave the world without regrets. Yet that was not how it was. No matter what good my death would bring, I knew I didn't want to die. Despite the fact it may have been selfish, there were so many things I still wished I could experience, that now I never would- and I found myself unable to face my death without sorrow.

When I felt the rush of wind I was certain accompanied the death blow I let out a last, painful sob, only to realize that the sting of metal never came. Instead, the tip of Nero's sword had lodged itself in the dirt by my feet.

In wonder, I drew my gaze upward a little, only to realize with shock that Nero was kneeling in front of me, his hands placed on the sword and his gaze downward.

"I promise on my life, that while I still stand no harm will come to you. I will be your sword and shield, as weak as I am, until we find a way to stop your mother and beyond that."

"What are you doing?" I asked, almost in horror. I had dreamed of such a moment, back in the darkness that was my tower, of a handsome knight swearing his fealty to me and how I would respond. Yet in my dreams I was always a gentle lady, worthy of such devotion. As I was I was barely worthy of the death I'd thought he'd bring me.

"I am a lord swearing fealty to his princess. For all your honorable notions you can't even recognize that?" he said, amused.

"I'm hardly a princess and you've no duty to me. I'm more fit to die on that sword that to be sworn to upon it."

"Those are words I've helped to teach you, and they're not true. Were you a monster, you wouldn't have offered yourself to save anyone- and already you've done more to change the lives of others than I could ever hope to accomplish. Liza, Arden, that old singer, even me. I've been living in fear for so long, I forgot what it means to have courage, but somehow you've reminded me of the lessons my father taught me."

I stared at Nero, trying hard to find the lie in his words. I knew what he was saying couldn't possibly have been true, and yet I could see not the slightest hint of deceit.

"But you can kill The Queen. Isn't that what you wanted?" I asked.

"My mother and father won't win justice through your death. Besides, Arden would be devastated," he answered, his mouth curved in his crooked grin. My heart was overflowing with emotions I didn't recognize.

"There is no other way," I said, though now I was not sure if I was pleading with him to kill me, or to convince myself it was still the right thing to do.

"We will find another way. You've managed to fight me off valiantly enough so far, and don't forget that my grandmother came up with a theory before she died. We'll just have to figure out what that was instead."

"I thought you said your grandmother was senile?" I asked.

"After the things I heard in that tent I'm about ready to believe in anything, and if you really are a princess then it is my duty as a lord to your father to offer you what protection I can."

"I don't need a knight Nero," I said firmly, and his eyes narrowed despite the fact they still gleamed with mirth.

"No? What shall I do then?" he wondered.

"I don't want you to protect me because you feel obligated to, but because we're friends and you want to," I said, a little abashed. He nodded slowly as he took in my words.

"Then I shall try and be a friend to you, though I admit I think I've forgotten what that means."

"I've never known what it means," I answered, and Nero laughed as I offered him my hand to help him rise to his feet. It was the first time I'd heard him do so sincerely, and the sound was pleasant to hear. It almost lifted me out of the despair I had felt, and rekindled the hope I feared I had lost.

"Then I fear Elora, that we will make quite the pair."

**A/N: Alright, so lots of information out there this chapter, and I hope it wasn't too difficult to follow and that you enjoyed it. It was probably some of the most difficult writing I've ever had to do. Thank you for all the amazing reviews, please know I love you all so much, and you're the reason this story is still proceeding despite my insecurities about it. **

**C.V.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10- Rest and Respite**

When I returned to the Bone Women's tent both Arden and Brynjar looked concerned, though neither Nero nor I wished to tell them the whole truth of what had transpired within. Instead, I pleaded exhaustion and hoped that I would have a place where I could rest and be left alone to my thoughts.

As we descended back down to the main settlement, Hedda was waiting for us. After her eyes drew to me, she cast her gaze downward. I realized that at some point during my time with the Bone Women, my hood had fallen down, revealing my face for all the mountain people to see. If they hadn't already heard of me from Jolf or Torvar, they all knew what I was now-and there was no hiding anymore.

"We've prepared a tent for you, though it hardly befits a princess," Hedda muttered. It was apparent that whatever I'd shouted in the Bone Women's tent, I had shouted for the whole village to hear. If Nero had discovered who I was, then surely it wasn't difficult to assume that everyone else had learned that I was the Queen's daughter as well.

I was aware that my mother did not have the best of reputations, and looking at the people who had gathered around me, I could see the trepidation in their eyes. I wondered what they must have thought of me, though no doubt they were curious as to the nature of whatever powers the Bone Women had confirmed I possessed.

"I am hardly a princess," I answered cautiously. "Just because the Queen gave birth to me doesn't make her my mother- not really. Unless of course, you think that by locking me in a tower and terrorizing me my entire life affords her the luxury of that position."

Hedda looked at me, her eyes sharp and scrutinizing. I met her gaze with as much strength as I could muster, now my eyes weren't hidden behind purple velvet.

"It hardly does," the woman eventually conceded, obviously concluding that I wasn't like my mother at all.

"Well now that's settled, what say you to a good meal?" Torvar said, his friendly demeanor lightening the mood that was cast over the camp at my appearance. I remembered again that I was starving, and my stomach came to life- growling so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it.

"You need some meat on those bones of yours girl-child. Come now," Hedda said, and beckoned me to follow after her, with Nero and Arden close on my heels. Brynjar had remained with his old friend by the fire, speaking of things that I was fairly sure I didn't want to hear.

The chieftain's tent was infinitely more pleasant than the Bone Women's had been, and a warm fire sat in the middle of the area, the smoke rising and leaving through a gap between the fur pelts on the roof. Hedda kept a neat house, but it was obviously well lived in. Small children's toys were scattered about bedrolls and newly washed clothing hung near the fire pit to dry. She walked towards the fire then, and using a hook pulled a large, iron pot away from the flames, setting it firmly on the wooden table.

"It's not much, but Torvar says my stew's fit for the Goddess herself," Hedda insisted as she poured some into wooden bowls.

I'd never eaten stew before, but it looked and smelled tantalizing. Nero and Arden dug right in, hungry after our recent exertion, but I wanted to savor the memory of what would be my first bit of warm food.

Nero noticed I was waiting, and looked at me curiously.

"Will it hurt to eat it?" I wondered. It had just sat on the fire after all, and logic followed that it should be far too hot to consume.

"You just blow on it a bit first, like this," he answered, demonstrating his point, though I thought it looked a little strange. Carefully, I brought my spoon to my mouth, placing my tongue on the tip of it to check how warm the stew was. Feeling the unfamiliar burning sensation alarmed me, and I dropped the spoon clean into my bowl. Nero laughed again, fishing my spoon out with his own.

"My grandmother used to say that good stew warms the body as well as the soul. You could definitely use some of both," he insisted, and I couldn't help but agree with him.

The next time I tried to eat, I was ready for the feeling, and I gulped the spoonful down. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever had, even more so than the cheese Nero had given me before.

In a matter of seconds I'd devoured the entire bowl, and Hedda gave me another helping before I'd even needed to ask.

"It's wonderful!" I insisted after finishing the second bowl. My stomach regretted eating so quickly, since I had never been so full

"One would think you'd never had a good meal in your life girl-child," she said, hands on her ample hips while she grinned.

"She hasn't, so I hope we might make up for that. She's likely to fall over if the wind blows too strongly," Nero laughed, and feeling a little embarrassed I cast my gaze into the empty bowl.

I looked to Arden, and she was regarding the both of us very strangely over the dip of her spoon. I hadn't really thought of how she might be feeling at the news of my parentage, and after Nero hadn't seemed to blame me for my mother's actions, I had simply taken it for granted that she wouldn't care either.

When she saw me watching her, she quickly continued eating her own food without saying anything.

Once we'd eaten we joined Brynjar and Torvar by the large fire outside It seemed as if the whole village was there now, the Bone Women not included, and they were drinking merrily. The people in the mountains seemed to be so much happier than those in the city, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the latter. I thought that everyone deserved the right to a happy, peaceful existence with the people they loved. Even as an outsider in the village I could feel the joy there that was completely absent in my mother's land, and it was contagious.

Even Nero was smiling as he drank ale with Brynjar- a new-found determination that comes with finding your purpose written all over his face while he told his friend about the plan to uncover his grandmother's secrets.

The only one in the whole place that didn't seem to be in a good mood was Arden, who was sitting off somberly in a corner.

I decided that it would be best to confront her about whatever was bothering her now, instead of waiting for her feelings to build up to an unbearable level. I'd already had my fair share of disappointment that day, and I much preferred to start tomorrow fresh.

I went over to her, and sat down beside her without a word. She didn't even look at me, so I took it upon myself to begin the conversation.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked.

"Not at all," she answered, in a voice that clearly meant she was.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my mother. I was afraid you wouldn't like me if you knew," I told her honestly. She looked at me then, her blue eyes- so like her brother's- flashing in annoyance.

"Is that what you think is bothering me? I don't care about your mother, or that you're some sort of creepy witch." My eyes stung a bit at her words, before I remembered that she was still just a child, no matter how brave she tried to act.

"I am not a witch. My mother is, and I am not like her. But you know that- so what is really troubling you?" I asked her gently.

"Why is Nero acting strangely with you now? Only this morning the two of you were fighting worse than cats and dogs."

I realized then that she must have been jealous. After all, not long ago she'd confided in me that she was worried her brother no longer cared for her. In the eyes of a child, it would be easy to believe that by being kinder to me he was loving her less.

I didn't wish to tell Arden the whole truth about what I'd learned about myself. It was too complicated and painful to burden her with, though it had a lot to do with her brother's changed attitude.

"Your brother and I have come to a sort of understanding. It's easier to work together to stop the Queen than to simply bicker about it all the time, don't you think?" I asked her, and her brows furrowed in thought.

"I suppose," she answered, albeit a little reluctantly.

"You know, making room for someone new in your heart doesn't mean there is less room for the people who are already there. I'd like to think that hearts can always grow," I said, putting my arm around her shoulder. She drew closer to me then, snuggling into my embrace, and I was pleased that she didn't hate me after all.

"How are you so smart?" she asked. I was taken aback at Arden's question. I'd never considered myself very wise in any way, since I'd never had any opportunity to study or learn through experience like everyone else.

"I'm not very smart. I nearly choked on that stew earlier didn't I?" I replied, and Arden chuckled.

"That was pretty silly, but it's not what I meant. Somehow you always know the right things to say- to me and my brother both."

"I don't think Nero would agree with you."

"Maybe you can't see it. Maybe he can't see it either- but I can. I haven't seen him smile that way in so long. You did that- you made him believe in something again."

Music began to play then, as wonderful as it had been the first time I'd heard the old man sing. Drums and instruments began to appear among those who'd gathered, and they played a lively tune together while others danced happily. It was a scene I'd envisioned before, from my book, and were I not so afraid to show myself I might have wished to join them.

Instead, I watched Nero at the fire for a time. Now, he was accompanied by a great number of people, all no doubt curious about who he was. They were generously offering him drink after drink. One young woman in particular seemed to be hanging off his every word, like they were made of honey and she was a bee. I couldn't help but notice that she was buxom and lovely, with wild red hair and big, doe eyes. From a distance, he seemed to like her too, since he said something funny to her that made her laugh.

Even her laugh was pretty, covering her mouth with her hand as she turned red at his attention. I couldn't help but remember the me I'd seen in the vision, with black hair and perfect lips. I wondered If I would laugh and blush at a man's attention and look so lovely, or if he'd even want me to.

"He doesn't like her you know- at least not like that," Arden said, and I looked at her confused.

"I don't know what you mean." I said, and she sighed with exasperation.

"There is liking someone as a person, and then there's liking someone more than that- the way a husband and wife like each other. I can tell Nero's only being friendly with her."

"How would you know something like that?" I wondered, genuinely curious.

"When we were younger, he was sweet on a flower girl in the village. She was very pretty, and he'd go to the flower shop every day and buy some daisies for grandmother- but just as an excuse to see her."

Somehow, I couldn't imagine such a scenario taking place with the same Nero I knew,and I almost wanted to laugh.

"Anyway, every time he'd look at her, or talk about her he'd get this weird look in his eyes," she said, and then sitting up, Arden tried to accomplish it, her eyes squinting oddly, but sparkling just the same.

"Well, I can't do it very well. Still, you'd know it if you saw it," she gave up, resting her head on my shoulder once more.

I couldn't help but wonder what being looked at in such a way would be like, and I found myself envying the flower girl even though I'd never met her.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked her.

"You looked like you needed to hear it." I thought that perhaps she was the wise one just then, and not I.

I closed my eyes and listened to the music, absently swaying to the beat and taking in all of the atmosphere around me until I realized Arden had become a dead weight on my shoulder, fast asleep.

I smiled as I looked down at her, pleased, for what felt like the hundredth time, that she did not shy away from me as one would expect a child to do when encountering a monster. I was so engaged while watching her sleep so peacefully that I didn't notice when Nero approached me. I hated to admit that I was happy the red-headed girl hadn't followed him.

"I'll take her back to our tent," he offered, and I released my hold on her so he could lift her up in his arms.

"In case you hadn't noticed I'm not very good at talking about emotions. Thank you for making her feel better, I'd have never known what to say."

"You-you're welcome," I said, stuttering awkwardly. I didn't know why I felt so odd, or why I kept thinking of how he'd only just sworn his fealty towards me like a knight of legend.

"If you aren't careful I'll grow used to hearing kind words from you," I said with a laugh, though it was almost like I was warning myself against it.

"You'd better not. I'd hate to mislead you into thinking I'm a decent human being," he said, in mock-seriousness.

"I told you before that I don't think anyone is irredeemable. Yourself included."

Nero began walking towards our tent then, carrying Arden as if she was something precious. I wished with all my heart that the child could see him as I did, then she'd know, without a doubt, that he loved her more than anything.

"When I said I wanted to kill the Queen I didn't know she was your mother," he said suddenly, his voice soft with shame.

"I understand why you did."

"Perhaps, but I have been thinking on what you said then- about how nothing in the world is black and white. We don't know how or why the Queen has such terrible powers, but maybe understanding that will help us learn more about how to stop her."

"It makes sense, but the only way to do that is to return to the Bone Women, and I'm not keen on going back there."

"I don't blame you, but I fear it may be our only option. Torvar said that they are willing to help you understand your power, if you wish it."

It was true that I wanted understand more about the nature of my power, since the next time I saved someone like Liza from the brink of death, even on accident, could become the death of me.

"I do wish it, and I will ask them more about my mother too, though it's hard to hear the truth about her."

We'd reached the tent, and I pulled the hide door out of the way so Nero could walk inside unhindered. He gently placed Arden on a fur palate, covering her with the woven blankets Hedda had provided.

"You look as tired as I feel. Get some rest for now, we can dwell on these things later."

"Will you sleep, too?" I asked.

"I'm staying with Brynjar elsewhere. It's not appropriate for me to sleep in the same tent as a lady."

"But she's your sister, surely it is not a problem." I'd read in books how it was looked down upon for a man and woman to share a bedroom before they were wed, and while I imagined the reason had something to do with different genders, I'd thought in the case of siblings things must have been different.

"I wasn't talking about Arden," he answered, and I had no reply to give him.

"Hedda's put a nightdress on your palate over there. Sleep well, Elora,"

Maybe I didn't look much like a lady, but hearing his words had made me feel like one for the first time since I'd left my tower.

**A/N: After the drama of last week I bring you the next chapter- a little slower paced. Thanks for your lovely reviews! You all are seriously the best readers a girl could ask for!**

**On a side note, I was compelled by a friend to start another project, and I decided I'd publish on this site due to its fairy tale nature. Sometimes writing this story gets a little dark, so I wanted to work on something a little lighter to cleanse my mind (so to speak). I'd be happy if you checked it out, too!**

**C.V.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Hi! If you read the update to _the Slipper Fit_ you'd know I promised to update this story too! And so I did! I hope to get back into the groove, though forgive any errors- I'm still a little jet-lagged and have written this chapter over such a long period of time it was difficult to go back and edit. Nevertheless thanks to all my lovely reviewers and I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a little bit of a game-changer.

**Chapter Eleven- Smoke and Shadows**

I slept well for the first time since I'd left the tower- probably in the first time ever. Although I still had much to think on, there was something to be said for the comfort of my sleeping roll in the tent, and the gentle sound of Arden's breathing next to me. I felt at peace with myself and what I was, perhaps because even though I didn't like the truth the Bone Women had shared, I still needed to hear it to be at rest within myself. To make matters even better, Nero's kindness towards me of late had given me even more to think on- especially after Arden's words to me the night before.

I wondered why she had thought I needed to hear about Nero's wooing habits, or why I should even care- but perhaps what bothered me the most was that I did care. I found my thoughts drifting to him constantly, to the thought of him calling me a lady, of him laughing at dinner, and the way he showed his affection for his sister. I would often try to sober myself with thoughts of him before, of how he had treated me when we'd first met, but those memories were quickly being replaced by ones that were far more pleasant, and far more frequent. It seemed like being in the mountains was doing us both a great deal of good.

If it weren't for the knowledge of my mother and what she was doing to so many innocent people, I would have been content enough to remain there, where I wouldn't be judged for an appearance I knew now I could never change- someplace I could be accepted. Nevertheless there was a thought that echoed in the back of my mind- one that I kept trying to ignore. I knew that eventually I would have to go back there, to that tower and the darkness I hated so much.

Hedda came to fetch Arden and I from the tent early in the morning, before life in the camp had really started. She appeared to be quite tired herself as well, and carried with her a number of soft, cotton blankets.

"I thought you might want a bath before breakfast," she said with a yawn. I remembered my experience at washing back at Nero's smithy and was eager to try again. The feeling of being clean was a spectacular one after all. Arden and I followed Hedda a little way up the mountains, in the opposite direction of the Bone Women's tent. Sitting beneath a large jutting peak were a number of pools that sent steam rising into the crisp morning air. A number of women had already gathered, and were bathing together. When I realized that I wasn't going to have any privacy, I grew a little uncomfortable, especially as I hadn't brought my hood with me. When Hedda urged both Arden and I to remove our nightgowns we both looked at each other hesitantly.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked the older woman a little cautiously, and she laughed.

"It's a morning ritual. It shouldn't make you uncomfortable, for as soon as your'e in the water no one will be lookin' at you anyhow," she said. In the end, the desire to be clean far outweighed our unease with the situation, and so it didn't take long before we had both removed our clothing to step into the hot pools.

I could feel my muscles relax, and tension I didn't even know I was feeling faded away from my body as I breathed a heady sigh of contentment. Arden did the same, and I could tell that she was just as enamored with the hot springs as I was.

After we returned and got dressed in some furred, mountain garb we set out to meet the rest of our companions. We found both Nero and Brynjar in the smithy, Nero marvelling at the quality of the steel axes and swords that lined the log walls.

"So you've arrived!" Brynjar said with a smile, drawing Nero's attention to us as well.

"Took you long enough to get ready," he chastised as he drew his fingers across the sheathe of a newly crafted sword in admiration of their craftsmanship.

"We went to the hot springs!" Arden exclaimed happily. Her brother smiled.

"Apparently the men go in the evenings, so I shall have to look forward to it. Until then I am forced to remain woefully unwashed," he said, patting Arden on the head affectionately.

"Arden you stay with Brynjar, I need to talk to Elora for a moment," he urged, and the younger girl nodded. The two of us slipped away from the camp and began to walk through the woods a little before he felt comfortable enough to speak.

"Have you decided what you want to do?" he asked.

"Honestly, if I could spend the rest of my life here without worry I would," I answered softly, almost as if I were wishing that could truly be the case. Nero smiled before sitting down on a fallen tree, gesturing for me to join him.

"I wish that too, but that would mean throwing away everything it took to get here. I've been working on a way to stop the Queen for a while now, and to give up seems like such a waste."

"I agree. I never want to see another woman like Liza again, and so I've decided to speak with the Bone Women again."

Nero looked at me, concerned.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"No, but it's worth the risk I think. I've let my mother control my whole life, and I'm not going to let her get away with it anymore," I asserted. I was surprised when he took my hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze, as if somehow he could share his strength with me.

"Then I shall do my part as well. I've been reading through my grandmother's book, and while I haven't discovered anything to help us yet I'm sure there must be something. I just have to look harder." We sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another until a loud sound from back towards the camp drew our attention away.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart pounding with fright.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it's not good," Nero answered, drawing his sword. The two of us rushed towards the camp, hand in hand, until we saw the mountain people gathered around a fire that looked to have been put out. Tendrils of black, thick smoke floated into the air above it almost unnaturally until they joined to form an all too familiar figure screaming like a banshee from one of Knight Valiant's stories.

"Is that-" Nero began.

"My mother, yes." I pushed back the ache of fear her presence usually imposed on me until I was able to walk towards her firmly. The Bone Women surrounded the tent, holding their arms over their heads as if using some sort of power to keep my mother's figure at bay. They looked worn down and weary, even more so than their old age allowed them, and so I knew it would be up to me to do something.

"Are you looking for me?" I shouted at the smoky figure, the blackness so overwhelming that it drowned out the afternoon sun.

The shade of my mother spun quickly at the sound of my voice, and her black, dead eyes regarded me with such hatred that I could feel it physically pressing down on me.

"Creature," she hissed like the thought of me was poison on her perfect tongue.

"I am not a creature," I shouted back, and she laughed and laughed at my assertion.

"One need only a mirror to discern what you are. Your little foray with those old crones was more useful than you know. It led me straight to you." She smiled a grin of exquisite satisfaction, knowing and believing that she'd won.

My heart ached at the idea that I could have led the mountain tribes into danger. I'd had no idea that was even possible, but I couldn't let them pay the price for what I'd done.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded.

"Only your safety dear child," she crooned back, reaching a smoky finger towards me to stroke my face. The feeling of the smoke stung my skin and made me cringe. It smelled unnatural, and not like the comforting smell of a hearth fire that I'd grown used to of late.

"The world is cold and unkind to a monster such as you. In your tower you are safe from all who would try and harm you, and I need you safe."

"I am not going back there!" I insisted.

"Oh but you are. My men are on their way to you as we speak, and you can choose to come with them quietly or not. The outcome will be the same for you, though I can't promise that your savage friends won't come in harm's way."

"Call your men back!" I insisted, angry she was using an entire community as hostages for my safety. My mother laughed again.

"And why would I do that?" It was a good question, since the two of us were completely uneven in terms of power. She held it all in the palm of her hand. There was only one thing I possessed that was valuable to her- my life, and the only reason that my life mattered was because it was directly connected to hers. Still, at least it was something I could use against her.

I spun around as quickly as I could muster and pulled Nero's sword from his hand before he had time to realize what I was doing. With a wince, I held it to my neck awkwardly. I'd never held a sword before, especially towards myself, and for all I knew I could have been doing it wrong since my mother hardly took my threat seriously.

"Am I to think you'd really do yourself in?" she laughed.

"No, you're not a fool. Still, perhaps this will prove to you that I am very serious," I said, pulling the steel against my neck so that it stung. Hot drips of blood ran down my neck but I refused to show any weakness lest my mother doubt my resolve.

"Elora!" Nero shouted in concern, but I paid him no mind. My eyes didn't leave my mother's, and I watched as her face twisted with rage while she clutched at her neck, black smoke fell like drops of blood from the same place I'd hurt myself. In that moment I understood the full reality of our bond. Our flesh was one, and even the slightest injury to myself would harm her in turn. It was more leverage against her than I thought I possessed, and while I wasn't eager to harm myself even more it was all I could do.

"I don't even need to kill myself mother, for it would be simple for me to mar my face. It would hardly make my appearance worse but I can't imagine you'd be happy with the change. Young or not, scars will last you forever!"

My mother screeched with fury, her smoky arms flailing through the air.

"Call off your men mother, for the moment I see one I promise you I will do whatever it takes to stop you. I have nothing to lose!"

"Oh you have something to lose, I've only got to find it creature. Rest assured that I will, and you will live to regret this day," she warned before the smoke was swallowed up by a strong breeze.

As soon as I was certain she'd disappeared I fell to my knees, my chest heaving with tears I'd refused to shed in her presence.

"What were you thinking you fool?" Nero yelled, snatching his sword from my hand and throwing it to the ground beside us with a resounding clang.

"I'm not a fool I just didn't know what else to do!" I shouted back.

"You didn't have to hurt yourself!"

"Don't yell at me! I don't need you angry with me, too!" I protested, finally letting my tears fall. Nero immediately sobered and fell down beside me, pulling a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and holding it against my wound.

"I'm sorry Elora, I was just worried. For a moment I thought you were actually going to go through with your threat."

"What choice would I have had? We were lucky I have a stronger connection with her than we thought or I would have had to. I can't let her hurt you and Arden, or the mountain people because of me," I said.

"Some knight I'm turning out to be. How can I protect you if you're so bent on destroying yourself?" he asked, and quite beside myself with relief and fear I couldn't help but wrap my arms around him in the same way Arden had when she was upset earlier.

I knew it probably wasn't an appropriate reaction, but given the circumstances I couldn't help but want the comfort of arms around me, and Nero didn't seem bothered by the idea. He was so much bigger than me that his arms practically crushed me against him as I cried into his shoulder. When my tears finally stopped, he held me at an arm's length away from himself as he examined my injury thoroughly.

"You need to get that taken care of," he insisted.

"No, I need to see the Bone Women again."

"I think you should rest first."

"There's no time. As much as I don't want to, I need to leave this place before I put anyone else in danger. But I can't do that until I get some more guidance."

"Where will you go?"

"The only place I can go. I need to go back to her. She won't hurt me, she can't- but she will hurt you and everyone I care about if she gets a chance."


End file.
